


Third Time is the Charm

by blackhighheels



Series: For they know now what they do [4]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Drama & Romance, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Medical Procedures, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:02:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23082178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackhighheels/pseuds/blackhighheels
Summary: Knowing what to do with a knee surgery coming up is a whole different kind of thing. How will they deal with the new situation?
Relationships: Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo
Series: For they know now what they do [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1596028
Comments: 118
Kudos: 83





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to post this as a motivation for myself, so I will continue writing while I am on vacation.

**_Now_ **

Brock is pacing in their living room, from the TV back to the doorway and over to the couch Jose is sitting on. He is just watching him silently. He knows his man is working up to something and tries to brace himself for whatever it is. Jose knows he is spiralling.

"Marry me!" It suddenly bursts out of Brock. His eyes are wide, his breathing fast and his whole body tense.

"What?" Jose asks, unsure if he heard correctly. He knew something was coming, just not… this. Brock walks closer to him, stops right in front of him.

"I said… I mean…" he ist panting like he just ran a marathon. "Marry me?" It's less an order this time and spoken more softly.

Jose looks at him and takes in the moment, the scene, his man. His wide blue eyes which are filled with tears, the hands clutched to fists and slightly shaking, his laboured breathing and the trembling body. "No," he finally replies. "No, I won't, Brock," he repeats calmly and shakes his head. Jose is very sure of his answer.

* * *

**_4 weeks before_ **

Jose has barely unlocked the front door, letting Riley off the leash, when his phone starts ringing. It's a FaceTime call from Brock. Instead of taking it on his phone, he hurries into the kitchen, opens the laptop standing on the counter and answers there.

"Hey boo boo, how was your day?" Brock smiles at him from the computer screen. He's dressed in a white bathing robe, not much else and puts on his make up.

"Nothing special. Went with Riley to get his vaccinations, so he's pouting under the bed now. Saw my mom, she says hi. Spoke with Jason about the new merch, ran some errants. And you?" Jose lists what he did that day, places his car keys on the counter and takes his hat off. "The shoot yesterday went alright?" he asks, because Brock is currently in London, doing a couple of photo shoots, interviews and shows.

"Yeah, it was. The pictures they showed me so far were really good. I liked the black and white theme they had going without actually making the pictures black and white. It's a like… playing with shadow and lights and stuff. I'll show you when they send me the first shots." Brock takes a sip of what looks like a cup of tea. "The show however… I don't know. I don't like the location too much. The bouncers are so rude and there's problems with the music every fucking time. I think I'll talk to Steve and tell him we won't accept gigs at that club anymore."

"I remember. I think I've been there twice and it was the same," Jose agrees and takes the container out of the plastic bag on the kitchen counter.

"That your dinner?"

"Yeah, I picked up some rice and beans at the new restaurant out in Studio City on my way back. Had to stop by to sign the new contract for the guest appearance on drag race," Jose confirms.

"Oh, that's really happening?"

"Yeah, there's gonna be a thing were they bringing me and Shangela in to talk some stupid shit in the work room and pretend like we both back for the first episode or something. Then we gonna be guest judging. I think it'll be fun."

"Will you be guest judging as Jose or as Vanjie?"

"Vanjie. I don't think Jose would say the kind of shit Mama Ru wants on camera," he laughs and gets out two plates.

"They should know better by now," Brock smiles wistfully in the camera while he watches him unpack his dinner in silence. "I miss you so much," Brock sighs heavily.

"Miss you, too, baby." They haven't seen each other in two weeks and it'll be another week until Brock will finally be back.

Their best laid plans after their vacation to spend more time together, had remained exactly that: only plans. If anything, they spend even more time apart now, since Jose is working more and more in LA and Las Vegas, while Brock travels mostly between filming in Toronto and filming and shooting fashion in London. All of it are great opportunities, but sometimes it feels like they barely see each other anymore. Jose feels like crying each time he lets himself feel it or dwells on it too much.

"You gonna have someone over?" Brock says when he sees the second plate.

"Yeah, Silks is coming over with more food. We gonna have a movie night. He said he'd try and cheer me up after the fucked up doctor's visit yesterday."

"Oh my god, I forgot about that! What did she say?" Brock asks and his eyes widen. He puts the blush down and focusses solely on Jose.

Once more Jose wishes his man was home and he could tell him all about it, while being wrappedin his arms. The short version will have to do for now, while they are so far apart.

"Ah, you know the usual. Knee is fucked up, I shouldn't dance anymore, it'll only get worse," he sighs. "They put me in the MRI again and did some x-rays. Cartilage is severely damaged, they had to put my kneecap back into place again, which is why I was in pain. She's also said that she's afraid my other knee will start acting up again, if I won't get it fixed soon. She advised to do the surgery rather sooner than later." He sighs again. He's heard it all before, but now things are getting way more concrete.

"Oh no, boo. And now?"

"She gave me an appointment at the hospital so another doc can take a look, ya know, for a second opinion and all. But Imma have to talk to Jason and see when we can fit the surgery into my schedule and how I can make them coins while I'm recovering. I'm still hoping that the other doc will tell me I won't need surgery. Just… chances are slim to none. So yeah, it is what it is." Another sigh.

"We'll think of something once I'm back, ok?"

"Sure. I just wish you were here now," Jose says.

"Five days," Brock replies and swallows hard. "Can we please change the topic? I don't wanna start crying with half my make up already on," he sniffs.

"Sure. You wanna hear something funny?"

"Always."

"Silks told me he found himself a man on instagram."

"Oh no! What kind of deadbeat did he pick up this time?" Brock exclaims and laughs.

"Child…Said they started dm-ing and he's real nice and real hot," Jose starts.

"And a real creep and only interested in Silky the Ru girl and not Reggie and this will all end as badly as the last time?!"

"Exactly. That why I told him to come over. He telling me about his fucked up love life and me trying to save him from himself will help me not thinking about the doc or you not being here, so it's a win-win," Jose says.

"Sounds like it is," Brock nods and continues applying make up. "You know more about the guy?"

"He's a college student, nineteen."

Brock interrupts him "Nineteen? That's barely legal jail-bait!"

"Don't know yet if he hot or not. He still has to send me a pic of his face. He's only shown me his dick so far."

"He did not!" Brock gasps and giggles. "Tell Silky to keep his guy's dickpics to himself!"

"Jealous?" Jose smirks.

"How did the dick look?"

"Yours looks better," he laughs.

"Ok, then, no, I'm not jealous."

"But Silks is. 'Cause even he had to admit that your dick's better!"

"You did not show Silky my dickpics!" Brock screetches. "What if I showed yours to Steve? Jose!"

"Hey, I didn't! Not my fault you walk around naked all the time even when he's here. He's seen your dick out in the wild, you dumbass," Jose laughs.

Realisation comes over Brock's face. "Right," he nods. "Hey, before I forget again: Did my package get there? Status is set to delivered now."

Jose rolls his eyes. "Yes, the last delivery of your Paris shopping spree has arrived. I mean, I didn't open it, but it says St.Laurent on the front, so I guess we're save."

"Yay, finally! And you can open it. Should be two more shirts and some jeans."

"I still can't believe you spent more than a years rent in two stores in Paris for clothes! And not even drag clothes, but boy clothes."

"You're always complaining about my cheap ass wardrobe."

"I am when it has holes in it! Don't mean I want you to spend the biggest part of our future mortgage on some stupid designer clothes, when you simply refuse to go shopping with me here in L.A. I could have got you some shirts, jeans and pullovers for like a tenth of what you spent."

"How often are we gonna have this talk?" Brock groans, slightly annoyed by it.

"I can stop. Just know that we never getting a bank account together. I don't wanna be dragged into debt no more. Just finally got rid of all of mine," Jose huffs. "But, alright: Topic change. What do ya wanna talk about?"

"Should I take the blue or the violet eye shadow with the neon?" Brock asks then, showing Jose the pallets.

"What are you gonna wear?"

"The new dress with the side train."

"Use the blue, it looks better," Jose decides just when the doorbell rings and Riley starts barking. "Riley! Shut it!" he yells.

"We really have to make him stop doing that. I don't know when this shit even started," Brock rolls his eyes.

"Imma talk to the guys from the doggy daycare tomorrow. Maybe they have a trainer or something. Gimme a sec," Jose replies and then walks off to let Silky in. "K, toes, gotta go. I'll keep you updated. Have fun on stage!"

"Thank you. Have fun with Silky! Talk to you tomorrow. Bye. Love you." He throws him a kiss.

"Love you, too," Jose replies and ends the call.

"When's the shady ho gonna be back this time?" Silky asks when he comes in the kitchen, Riley in his arms.

"Next week. But you better tell me about _your_ man instead of bashing mine!" Jose sets up the kiki-ing and takes the rest of the food his friend has brought to set it up on the kitchen counter.

"What? I'm not bashing the bitch, I hardly see him. Didn't you tell me he wanted more time with you, when you came back from your little love vacation months ago? And what happened? He's gone more than before," Silky points out and Jose feels his good mood vanish.

"We all have to make the money while we can. He always asks me before saying yes to stuff."

"And your dumb ass always tells him to go, just to then sit her and sulk and cry?"

"Hey, it's not like I'm just lazing around here! I have to work too. We can't just hole up in here and go to work from nine to five and then spend all out free time together, as much as I'd like that. Yes, it sucks right now, but in September he'll be done filming and Imma be done with Vegas and everything will slow down. It's just three more months."

"What are you gonna do about the surgery? You can't be here on your own," Silky points out.

"I don't even know yet when it's gonna be. Maybe he'll be here when I get outta the hospital? If not, I'll ask my mama and maybe you can help? Haul my ass around and cook for me?" Jose asks with a small smile.

"You better know how lucky you are, bitch, that you my best friend. Not everybody gets fat Silk with the good milk as a nurse when needed, ya know?" Silky sits down the sofa and starts eating.

"I know. And now tell me about your new guy. I've seen his dick, now I wanna see his face and know his name," Jose joins him on the couch, glad that he can put the surgery and his absent boyfriend out of his mind for now.

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**_3 weeks before_ **

"Ok, we have to stop and get out of here," Brock laughs when they break the kiss for the second time, but are still standing all wrapped up in each other in the middle of the LAX arrivals area, surrounded by other travellers and Brock's bags.

"I know, I just missed you," Jose says and hugs him once more, his nose pressed to Brock's neck. He doesn't want to let go of his man, now that he's finally back. Feeling him and taking in his scent is what he needs right now.

"I missed you, too." Brock tells him, presses his lips to Jose's forehead and he finally manages to pull back.

"Here." Jose hands him the car keys." Before you start bitchin' about my driving again." Brock just laughs. "How was your flight?" Jose takes one of the large suitcases and leads the way to the parking garage with Brock following with the rest of his luggage.

"It was good. Seemed longer than normal, I don't know," he knows. "Whenever I am flying so much in a couple of weeks, the flight times seem like they get longer. A six hour flight suddenly feels like ten or so."

"Did you need any pills?"

"No, I was fine without them. Even managed to sleep for most of the flight," Brock tells him.

Jose feels weirdly proud of him and decides to tell him. "I'm so proud of you. You doing so good!"

"Thank you, papi," Brock smiles and even blushes a bit. "Does that mean I'll get a reward when we're home?" his smile becomes salacious and the blush is gone.

"We need to go and get groceries, toes," he replies, just to tease him. "I'll buy you a chocolate bar if you want."

"Groceries can wait. As long as we're not out of lube, I don't see a problem." Brock laughs after making sure they are out of earshot of others.

"You had some nice dreams on that flight?"

"Not really, but we have three weeks to make up for."

"And whose fault is that?" Jose snorts as they step into the lift to the parking garage.

"I know. I'm sorry I suck so much as a boyfriend at the moment," Brock looks so sad suddenly that Jose regrets his flippant comment. He knows that Brock doesn't do this lightly.

"You don't suck, toes. We both have to make the money money money and it's just… missing you sucks big time. Not you being my boo, ok?" Jose gives Brock's arm a squeeze.

"We really have to come up with something soon. I don't know how long I can keep doing this," Brock voices what he has said before, sometimes on the phone and sometimes when they saw each other. A year ago Jose would have panicked hearing this, but he knows that this is not about breaking up, this is about how to make them better and how to make them work long term.

"We'll come up with something. We gonna talk tomorrow, ok? I made sure we both have the day off."

"Ok." A small smile is back on Brock's face.

***

"Fuck, I missed this," Jose says as he comes back out of the bathroom, still butt naked and climbs into bed where his naked man ist still lying with a sappy smile on his face.

"Phone sex just isn't the same," he agrees and wraps both arms around him as soon as Jose lies back down.

"Neither is chat sex or video sex or whatever the fuck you call the stuff," Jose agrees and places a kiss on the middle of Brock's chest as he enjoys his man's arms around him.

"Can't do this." Brock tilts Jose's head up and kisses him deeply.

"Nope, but we can now." Jose kisses him once more. "Love you so much, B."

"I love you, too." He places a kiss on his nose. "Do we really have to go and get groceries or did you just say that to tease me?"

"No, we really have to go. Wasn't able to, 'cause I got back so late last night.

"That was the last show, right?"

"Yeah, brought the last of my stuff from Vegas. I just put the boxes in the guest room and the garage. I was too beat to unpack all the shit."

"I can help you later or tomorrow or whenever."

"We're not unpacking shit today, toes. Other than your dirty laundry and the stuff we gonna buy."

"Alright, then we better get up and do that before we fall asleep and won't make it out of bed at all."

"Fine," Jose sighs and sits up.

"Not so fast, let me kiss you again and cuddle you for a second longer," Brock tackles him back on the bed and Jose shrieks with laughter.

"You an idiot boo."

"What? I missed you!" Brock laughs and kisses whatever part he can reach of the squirming Jose. 

"Don't think I didn't miss your lazy ass. But you just gonna whine later when we have no drinks and snacks or food." Jose holds his face between his hands and makes him look at him. What is meant to simply get his love to tease him backfires, when Jose finds himself drowning in his eyes. "Fuck, how can you get even more beautiful each motherfucking time I see you?" he asks him with wonder and keeps studying his too pretty face.

"I feel the exact same way about you." They sink into another deep kiss and this time it is Brock who ends it. "Come on, boo boo, let's get dressed and go shopping. The sooner we leave the sooner we're back and can start round two." He playfully slaps Jose's ass as he gets out of bed.

"Ah, knew there was a catch."

"What? You already have enough of me?"

Jose snorts. "Yeah, ya know, now that we've been together for more than a year, grocery shopping is more exciting than fucking. It getting old." Jose fakes a yawn and picks his underwear off the floor. "Just like you.

"You're such a sarcastic asshole sometimes, papi," Brock laughs and pulls him close for another kiss.

***

"God, I really don't wanna leave again in just four days," Brock whines as they are lying on the sofa, watching a movie all tangled up in each other the next afternoon.

"Then don't. Just stay," Jose shrugs.

"I wish I could," Brock places a kiss on the top of his head. "Filming starts in two weeks and we need to do all the promo shots and get all the press junk out of the way for the ending of the last season."

"I know, just kidding," Jose says and sits up. "But seriously, Brock, we can't go on like this." Jose sighs and pauses the movie.

"I know. I'm just… I don't know how to fix it." He sits up as well and leans his arms on his thighs, head hanging down.

"Maybe, if you keep working this much in Canada, we should think about buying a house there instead of here. Then we'd at least be together for that and we would just have to fly out for our tours or filming here in LA."

"And your Las Vegas residency," Brock knows.

"Yeah, that's over."

"They'll want you back come August. They always do."

"Maybe, but I won't be able to do it no more. At least not this year. If I'm lucky next year," Jose sighs.

"What? Why? What do you mean?"

"They gonna cut me open four weeks from now. They finally scheduled the knee surgery," Jose finally admits.

"What?" Brock's head shoots up. "I thought the surgery was a thing of the future and we'd see when it would fit into our schedules?"

"Yeah, that what I thought, too. But the other doc and the hospital and the one after that both said that it has to be done real soon. I popped my kneecap out three times in the last two weeks and last week they had me on so many painmeds my stomach couldn't take it no more. I can't do this anymore, Brock."

"Why am I only hearing about this now?"

"I didn't wanna worry you and wanted to tell you in person and not over the fucking screen. And the last appointment was just yesterday before I picked you up at the airport."

"Ok, then which dates are available for the surgery?" Brock asks him and picks up his phone from the couch table.

"Surgery is gonna be on the 14th."

"No, I can't that day. I'll still be in Toronto filming. I'm gonna be back… on the 28th," Brock knows.

"Yeah for two days, then you leave to do the formerly canceled tour in Thailand."

"Fuck, ok… after that? What about the tenth of August?"

"You're here for a week and Imma be in the hospital for five days of that. You'd be gone two days after I'd be out," Jose points out. "Babe, Steve, Jason and I have been over this at least eight times, one time with my doctor present. My doc says we can't wait another six months until it fits into both our schedules. It has to be done as soon as possible or I won't even have the chance of dancing again afterwards and might be hooked on painkillers on top. So, after I talked to Jason, my mom and Silks, we all agreed the 14th is the best date, 'cause my gigs can be easily canceled or postponed and my mom and Silks both have time and can help me."

"But I won't be here!" Brock explodes and gets off the couch. "I will be in Toronto filming and won't even be able to visit you at the hospital. Once I'm back from tour everything will be done and I won't be able to help you one bit. That's just wrong, Jo! Don't I get a say?"

"Don't you think I don't know that! It's not my fault your schedule is so fucked up and you're never here!" Jose yells back. "You know, I understand and I don't blame you or nothing, but you can't expect me to put my health at risk, just cause it don't fit into your fucking schedule! If you wanna be here for me when they fix my knee in the right time frame, you either have to cancel filming or the tour or both. There's no other way."

"I can't do that! Do you know how much money I'd lose and how many people I would disappoint? They'd never put me back on Drag Race in Canada!"

"Then it is what it is and we can't change it! So stop yelling at me and deal with it!" Jose is still full on screaming at Brock, who is still pacing.

"Fuck! I hate this!" Brock yells and swipes the mail off the table, making the letters and newspapers fly everywhere. Jose feels his control on his own anger slowly slipping at this display.

"You better clean this up," he tells Brock as he passes him and walks upstairs to their bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

It takes less than five minutes until the bedroom door opens again and Brock comes in.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you. I'm not mad at you or anything, not really." He sits down beside Jose at the edge of the bed. Jose has Henry in his lap, petting him gently. "I'm just frustrated by the situation. I wanna be there for you when you have the surgery. I need to be there when you have the surgery and yet I can't!" Brock gets upset again. "I want out of the fucking contracts to be here, but I can't… I don't know what to do, Jose," he is so angry and frustrated he starts crying.

"Do ya think I want this? I don't wanna have this fucking surgery! And I sure as hell don't wanna have it when you not here. But again, we don't fucking have a choice! You don't and I sure as fuck don't! Last time we didn't have a choice about shit, you kicked my ass out, now you yelling at me. That not what we doing anymore," Jose tells him with a lot of force behind his words, but he isn't yelling again.

"I just hate feeling so fucking helpless and trapped in a situation I don't wanna be in."

"You wanna get the surgery and I fly off to Toronto to shoot? Wanna switch? See if you like that better then?"

"We would still be in the same trap just with our roles switched. It would still suck."

"Why are you the asshole that's complaining! I'm the one in pain, I'm the one losing all the money and gigs, I'm the one they gonna cut open and I'm the one who has to accept that his boyfriend won't be there for any of the surgery shit or the recovery! You think I want the first face I see to be Silks? You think I want my mama to help me shower?" Jose's volume grows again. "What the fuck are you even complaining about?"

"I'm complaining because I wanna be there for you! And I have the feeling that if we had more time we could make it happen!"

"Oh, so of course, the great Brock Hayhoe will be able to fix the booking mess all three of us other hos weren't able to."

"That's not what I meant!"

"That's exactly what you meaning, cause you always have to control every shitty detail. But it don't work like this, this time. 14th is the surgery. You either here or you not, but don't you fucking be the one angry or pouting, because you got no reason to! And now go and call Steve and yell at him some and let him tell you again that there's no other date working, cause you sure as hell never believe me when I tell you this stuff."

"I don't wanna fight," Brock sighs heavily.

"Neither do I, but it looks that what we doing. Wanna yell at me about that too?"

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too," Jose replies, still angry.

"I'm gonna make some calls. How about we then walk Riley together to cool off?" Brock suggests.

"We not gonna talk about any of it while walking Riley," Jose requests.

"Ok," Brock agrees quickly.

"Go call Steve," Jose sighs and puckers his lips.

"Love you," Brock kisses him.

"Love you too, you fucking asshole," Jose rolls his eyes, but gives him another peck before he lets him leave the bedroom. "You daddy is such a dumbass, Henry. First he packs his diary full with appointment, always scared to say no and lose them coins and then he yaps when he misses out on stuff here. He can't have it all, ya know. No one can. And throwing a tamper tantrum won't get him shit. You better remember that little man," Jose tells the cat. "He just forgets that I'm the sucker who has to be operated on. He should show me some sympathy, not yell at me. But you gonna be a good boy and look after me, right? We gonna get you a bag and you can fetch me drinks and food and cuddle me when your daddy can't."

Jose remains in the bedroom with the cat for another twenty minutes until he has told him all of his thoughts and has calmed down. Then he walks back downstairs and listens if he can hear Brock still talking. But there's silence, which is weird.

He finds him leaning against the kitchen counter, cellphone still in hand, tears dripping from his nose onto the floor. Without saying anything Jose walks over to him and wipes his tears away with his hands.

"I want to be there for you when you have your surgery and I want to look after you. I don't want to leave you here," Brock sniffs.

"I know that, boo," Jose replies softly and keeps wiping the tears away.

"I'm scared you'll resent me for it one day," Brock admits.

"Never. I know you wanna be here and I know you can't be." Jose wraps his arms around him and pulls him close.

"I'll still try and talk to production. Maybe we can speed some things up or change the schedule. I'm not gonna give up without trying." Brock dries his face by rubbing it against Jose's shirt at his shoulder.

"Good." Jose kisses his cheek a couple of times. "Let's go and walk Riley. Grab some iced coffee on the way. If you nice, I might buy you some cake as well."

"How about I buy some strawberry lemonade as a side? Or lemon cake? Or a slice of strawberry cheesecake?"

"You the one always dreaming about cake, toes, not me," Jose laughs and pulls back. "You good now?"

"Yeah, of course. I should be the one asking you that."

"Good. We both good, then let's go walk the dog. I wanna spend some quiet time with my boo and my baby boo."

"I'll get the dog and the leash. You put on your brace?" Brock asks him and Jose realises then that his knee brace must still be lying on the sofa, where he took it off earlier.

"See, you a good boyfriend, all organised and shit," Jose points out, but Brock only rolls his eyes and gives a little self-deprecating shrug as he walks off to find Riley.

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not sure when I'll be able to update again. Depending on how it goes it might be a while. So I thought I'd leave you this chapter before.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back. Figuratively and literally.

**Chapter 3**

**2 weeks before**

"Hello?" Jose asks sleepily when he answers his phone. His eyes aren't open yet as he presses the device to his ear.

"Hey, it's me," he hears Brock's voice and lies back down against the pillows. It's nice to hear his voice, because they haven't really talked much in the last two days. They were both busy and there is still a weird tension that is filling every conversation since their fight. A couple of spats about the topic followed while Brock was still home, but now that he's back in Canada Jose simply refuses to talk about it some more. They've gone in circles enough.

"Mmmh."

"Could you pull the phone away from your ear. I'm face-timing you, boo," Brock laughs and finally Jose opens his eyes and moves the phone so he can see the screen. "Did I wake you?" Brock is walking around shirtless in his hotel room, only a wearing a pair of sweatpants.

"Yeah, I fell asleep," Jose states unnecessarily and looks around. He's still lying on the living room couch, a stack of pillows behind him, Riley lying at his feet and Henry sprawled over his chest. He yawns widely and scratches Henry's head. "Fuck, I didn't wanna sleep this long. Just wanted to take a short nap and now it's fucking dark out."

"Should be ten your time."

"I haven't had dinner yet," he whines, but doesn't move from his position.

"You still have something at home or you gonna order?" Brock comes closer to the phone again, after putting something away. Jose knows chances are slim to none that his room is actually clean for once, with his stuff put away instead of clothes exploding everywhere.

"Dunno. I'm too lazy to get up to check the fridge or open the door. Think Imma stay here and starve. Should have trained Riley as a service dog long ago." Riley lifts his head when he hears his name, but then lies down again. Jose flips the camera to show Brock. "And Henry's gonna hate me if I get up now."

"Where's Apollo?"

"No idea. I should probably check, before he chews on the plastic flowers again."

"Aw, I miss my babies."

Jose still doesn't move. He is absolutely exhausted. "How was you day? Got some pretty pictures taken?"

"No, today was just meetings," Brock sighs and sits down on his hotel bed. "They want to introduce some new challenges and apparently there's been some fuck up with the hotel reservations for the queens. I don't know. I wasn't really listening." Brock sighs again and now Jose slowly sits up and switches on the bigger lamp by the couch.

"Why? Something wrong, baby?" He knows something is definitely wrong, that's actually not the real question.

"I tried to persuade them to give me a week off around the time of your surgery, but they declined. They said I can't only do half a season, it's all or nothing, as long as it's not me getting sick or injured."

Jose nods. He has seen this coming and appreciates that Brock tried, but he still hates it. He had hoped that Brock would make it work somehow. Or choose him, even if it makes no business sense at all. Now he knows it won't happen, the career comes first.

"That sucks."

"I'm so sorry. I really wanna come home and be there for you, but this…," Brock trails off. They had this discussion a couple of times last week. Each time Brock apologised and said he would try everything to be there for the surgery. And each time Jose assured him he would be fine either way. Yet, it still stings. The childish and unreasonable part of Jose wants to throw a fit and scream and pout, but he knows he can't.

"I know." Is all he says. "It is what it is. At least we can do the dirty again once you get back. Don't wanna have you around while I can't satisfy you," he jokes.

Brock's smile is small and more wistful than amused. "That's not what this is about, Jose. I should be there…I… I feel horrible." Brock's voice gets more and more quiet and Jose knows he is fighting tears by the end of his sentence.

"Want me to send Henry over to give you a cuddle? I could ship him with Fedex express and he should be there tomorrow afternoon. His lazy ass probably wouldn't mind as long as I throw some tuna in."

"I'd rather have you ship yourself and give me a cuddle." Brock is pouting.

Ever since Jose has revealed the date of the surgery, Brock has been in a very strange mood. Impatient, brash and foul tempered at times. Overly affectionate and even clingy the rest of the time. Since then, no joke Jose makes seems to land, no distraction seems to work and now something between them is just off, no matter how often they talk everything over. He knows Brock is spiralling and worrying, but for once Jose can't do shit, because he is worried himself and there is nothing he can do to reassure his man. Surgery will suck and Brock won't be there for weeks - those are the facts.

"Eight weeks," he points out, because it's the truth.

"Fuck," Brock covers his eyes with his hands.

"Wanna hear about the appointment yesterday?" Jose asks him, before he really starts to panic.

"Did Silky take you?"

"Yeah, he did. But he ain't gonna take me to no doctor's appointment no more. He asked more questions than a fucking three year old and was all over the good doctor."

"You let him come in with you?"

"I didn't ask him or nothing, he just came in." Jose shrugs. "Doc said I have to do physical therapy so recovery will be faster. That's what I done and did today. Fucking hurt and it was exhausting. Can't believe I have to do that shit every day soon. I came back home and fell asleep. I haven't even showered yet."

"Yeah, me either. I just had dinner with my mom and then got back to the hotel."

"How is she?"

"Good. She said to tell you that if you want her to come over and help you out, it won't be a problem."

"Tell her thanks, but my mom's got it. She'd whoop my ass if I let your mother take care of me when she's here anyway."

"She got the ok from her boss?"

"Yeah, unpaid leave. I'll just pay her what she loses and we good."

"That's something at least. So Silky won't move in and play nurse?"

"I don't know. He probably will. I mean, my mom's a tough cookie, but I don't know what exactly I'll need help with and all. We'll see." Brock seems to shrink in on himself, Jose can see it even over the screen and decided to change the topic. "So, you gonna tell me a secret?"

"What secret?"

"You finally gonna spill who's gonna be on drag race Canada?"

"You know I can't," Brock laughs and it's exactly what Jose wants.

"Come on, bitch! Tell me!"

"I am not allowed to."

"I'm your man, of course you can!"

"No, I can't."

"You suck, ho! You a bad bad boyfriend all sercretitively and shit," Jose huffs playfully, but the expected protest or laughter doesn't come.

"I know," Brock says instead, his voice small and quiet.

"Toes, you know I'm just talking shit, right?"

"Doesn't make it any less true." He is full on pouting now and lets himself fall backwards onto the bed.

"Brock, stop this shit. You know I don't mean it and you not a bad boyfriend."

"But I am! This is the first big thing since we got back together and what do I do? I have to work and can't be there for you. I suck! If the roles were reversed, I know you'd be there no matter what." Brock rants. Jose remains silent, because Brock is right. There is no way in hell he would let any job come between him and caring for Brock, if he needed it. He's canceled gigs for less. But that's not how his perfectionist workaholic of a boyfriend operates.

"Lets not talk about this anymore, Mary. That horse is deader than zombies at the apocalypse," Jose mutters, his mood souring as well.

"But…"

"No! Leave it. We done talking about this shit. You made your choice to do drag race, I made mine choosing the date. Done. Finito. I don't wanna hear another motherfucking word about it."

"I didn't choose this!"

"Yeah, you did. And it ok," Jose feels his anger reaching a point where he knows he's going to yell any second. "Imma get something to eat now. I'm hungry and tired. Imma call you tomorrow when we both calmed our asses down."

"We can't just end this call here. Not while we're fighting."

"We not fighting. Yet! That why I'm ending this. Bye." Without waiting for the reply Jose hangs up and sighs loudly. "You motherfucking idiot!" He yells, to vent his frustration. A woof comes from the other end of the couch. "Not you Riley. Your other daddy. What the fuck does he want me to do? Wait until he has time for me to get the surgery and just walk around in fucking pain all the time? Bitch, that ain't happening." He gets up and both Riley and Henry jump off the couch. "Let's go see if we can find your brother and then go to bed. I'm done with this fucking day." He has just reached the hallway when his cellphone starts ringing. Jose limps back over to the couch and sees that it is Brock calling. He picks up the phone, mutes the ringtone and then walks back into the hallway and shuts off the lights. In the dark he can see that his phone goes dark for a second, then lights up again. He hesitates, but then walks upstairs to take a shower and go to bed. He is not interested in yet another fight about the same thing. Especially not when he is hungry and tired.

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to everyone in quarantine or self-quarantine like me. Send a message my way, if you need someone to chat with before you lose it.   
> Times are hard, but maybe we can all help each other a bit by looking out for one another even from afar.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**3 days before**

Jose twirls the phone one more time between his thumb and index finger. He still hasn't made a decision, even though he has been sitting on the couch, thinking about it for the last half hour.

He knows he should call, because it is the right thing to do. But after the last couple of weeks he is tired and wary of the situation.

The calls between him and Brock have become strained at best and end in fights most of the time. Jose is at his wits end about how to change the situation. It is not even that they are not communicating, they are, but they can't find a solution to their problem, neither of them even able to give an inch. He can't postpone his surgery and Brock can't quit his job as a judge on Drag Race Canada. Well, he could, but he isn't willing to and Jose understands where he is coming from. That in itself wouldn't be a problem, if Brock wasn't feeling so guilty that he is currently stuck in some kind of anxiety ridden depression, that Jose simply can't get him out of.

He even talked to Brock's mother, reason for yet another fight, but neither she nor his sister have been able to help.

Jose offered to come to Canada for a couple of days, hoping against his better knowledge that seeing each other would help, but the suggestion alone had been the starting point for one of the ugliest fights yet, with Brock ranting that Jose doesn't need to emphasise it as much, how much of a better boyfriend he is. Since then, three days ago, they haven't talked at all.

Things have changed now however, and as his boyfriend he knows he has to inform Brock. He just doesn't want to call him.

"Yo, why you still sitting here, twiddling ya phone? You gotta call him and confess, ain't no way around it," Silky says as he walks back into the living room and sits down next to him.

"I know, but I don't wanna get yelled at again. Shit fucking sucks right now," he grumbles but accepts the large iced coffee.

"Your idiot boyfriend gonna yell no matter what. Or he gonna cry again. You know it, I know it, so why drag it out? Call him and get it off your chest what you did."

Jose sighs and looks down at his phone, which seems to stare at him just as accusingly as Silky. "I'm scared we gonna break up soon. Shit's getting worse and worse with each phone call. I don't think we've ever fought like this, not even before we broke up the first time." There, he said it out loud and admitted what he's really scared of.

"Ain't you hos just having the same fight over and over again?"

"I guess. Still sucks." The decision about the call is taken out of his hands then when his phone rings and Brock's picture pops up on his screen. "Shit," he curses and Silky gets back up.

"Imma leave you to it."

Jose nods and waits for a second before he picks up. "Hey," he says, wariness already swinging in his voice. His stomach clenches painfully, because he knows with absolute certainty that they will fight again.

"Hey," Brock says back and his face shows up on the screen. He looks horrible, there's no other word for it. His eyes are bloodshot, his face is pale and he has deep bags under his eyes. He looks like he hasn't slept in a week and Jose suspects that might actually be the case. "I'm sorry," he starts, but Jose interrupts him.

"Let's not start the same shit again. You say sorry, I accept it, you keep saying sorry until we start fighting again. I'm done with that." Maybe it comes out harsher than he intended, but Jose is fed up with all of it and the confession he has to make doesn't really help his mood.

"I know, but…"

"No, Brock stop! I don't wanna hear it no more!"

"What? Is this your way of breaking up with me?" he concludes and Jose can see him get even paler.

"No, you idiot. I don't wanna break up, but I can't do this fighting thing anymore either. It's too much right now." They are both silent as they let Jose's words sink in. "I got something to tell ya."

"Ok." Brock nods, his voice is quiet and he seems to brace himself.

"Day before yesterday I called up Silks because I didn't wanna sit here anymore and pout because of our last fight. I wanted to go out and after a while I talked him into it. We went out to the club, smoked some weed, had some fun and then went to see a drag show later. Some hos called me up on stage and to makethe fucking long story short, I went up, did the dance off with them, did the death drop and popped my fucked up knee again. Really fucked it up this time. Next morning it was all swollen and shit and when the doc saw it, he had some real trouble to put my kneecap back into place. I damaged some more stuff and they moved the surgery up to next week and I have to walk around on crutches until then."

"Have you lost your fucking mind? How can you go on stage and dance when you can barely walk without pain?" The yelling is back.

"I was drunk and high."

"I don't care what you were, you shouldn't be out clubbing anyway! God, do I really need to come back just to babysit you?"

"You won't even come back if I die during the fucking surgery, so don't go around making promises you won't keep!"

"I want to come back! But I can't! You know that."

"I don't know shit! But here we are again yelling at each other! I'm fucking high on painkillers and been stuck on this couch all day, so you better not fuck with me right now."

"I don't even get to say my piece?"

"Not if you just blaming me. You don't have that right no more!"

"What?"

"You not here and it's your fucking fault anyway, cause you always yelling or crying. If you hadn't messed me up, I wouldn't have gone out and wouldn't have hurt myself!" Jose knows it's bullshit and highly unfair, but he can't help going for the jugular.

"I'm …"

"If you say "sorry" Imma smash my fucking phone!" After this last explosion there's silence as they stare at each other on their phone screens. The longer he looks into Brock's sad eyes, the more guilty Jose starts to feel about the crap he just said. But "Sorry" has lost all meaning by now. "I gotta go," he says instead when he can't take it anymore and hangs up. He waits if Brock will try calling again, but the phone remains silent.

**48 hours before**

Jose doesn't leave the couch this day or the next, except to go to the bathroom. He even sleeps on it. Silky gets so fed up with his weepy mood that he leaves the next morning after dumping some groceries at the place. Jose is not hungry anyway. All he wants to do is call Brock and finally make up, but he knows that even if he calls him, things won't get better.

Howdid they get this fucked up so quickly? What happened that Brock's guilt dominates everything, while he has started resenting him, even though he denies it? It shouldn't be such a huge deal that Brock isn't here. Other people are apart even more, women have children while their husbands serve overseas and they don't fall apart over it.

Jose even called Dr. Laurie at some point, but even her talking to Brock hasn't changed his guilt and neither has she been able to take away the nagging feeling that he and their relationship would always just come in second place.

He starts to realise that maybe his doubts didn't just start once he knew Brock wouldn't be here for the surgery, but even before, once all the hopes and promises they talked about during their vacation haven't come true. It isn't only Brock's fault, he is just as much to blame. Neither one of them has made their plans of spending more time together a priority and neither has complained out loud. They have simply given in, taken their hectic schedules as a given, a fact, that just can not be changed, like they were made by god himself.

Jose has showered in the morning, had some coffee and has eaten half a bagel over the course of the day, but mostly he is just lying on the sofa with his pets cuddled close. Sometimes he can't help it and cries, because he is scared, fucking terrified, that this will be the end of them. What is he supposed to do though? Even if Brock called him and told him it was over, he wouldn't be able to pack his shit, because of the stupid crutches.

Yet, even if Brock told him it's over, Jose would refuse to accept it, just like he refuses to believe that Brock would give up on them this easily once again. For now things suck really bad, but it will get better again once his surgery is over and Brock will be back. They just have to work hard for it.

Mulling this over Jose falls asleep, Riley lying on his feet and Henry sprawled over his chest.

***

Jose wakes up and just knows something is wrong. He can't remember if the lights were on when he fell asleep, but usually the pets never stray far from him. They are all gone. He finds his phone plugged in and the coffee cups and the dry half of his bagel gone.

"Silky?" he calls out, because he knows that his mother isn't crazy enough to let herself into the house at four in the morning. "Silky! Show your crazy ass, before I whoop it with my crutches!" At least when Silky leaves him to fend for himself, he feels bad about it and comes back to make it up to him. He sits up and looks around to see if he can find a clue where his friend is hiding. He is too exhausted to get up, but turns his head and leans a bit over the back of the couch when he hears steps in the hallway. There's some commotion and noise. "Silks, what the fuck are you doing?" he grumbles, because it sounds like Silky is trying to tear down the drawer in the hallway.

"Hey," he hears and nearly falls over the back of the couch when he sees Brock standing in the hallway, large suitcase beside him.

"What are you doing here?" Jose isn't sure if he should believe his eyes.

"I quit Drag Race Canada and came back on the first flight available."

"Have you lost your mind? Why would you…" Jose starts repeating what he has told him over the last weeks.

"Stop!" Brock interrupts him for a change. "I don't care what you say at this point. I need to be here when you're hurt, no matter if you want me to or not. Drag Race doesn't get to tell me anymore who I can be with and when I can be with the man I love. I'm done with that shit."

"You really gonna be here when they cut me open?" Jose feels his heart speed up.

"Yes. I'm not leaving again until you've recovered." Brock says this with conviction as he stands there in the doorway all tall and beautiful. Jose feels overwhelmed by the whole situation. He leaves the crutches lying by the sofa as he limps towards Brock. He wraps his arms around his middle, lets himself be wrapped up in Brock's arms and starts sobbing against his chest.

He didn't know how much he needed the knowledge that nothing is more important to Brock than him and their relationship. Actions definitely speak louder than words this time. The tightness in his gut and around his heart melts away and flows out of him with the hot tears.

"I love you so fucking much," he sniffs, his nose still pressed to Brock's shoulder. It feels so fucking perfect to be in his arms again and to be able to breathe him in.

"I love you too. Sorry, it took me so long to make this decision."

"Stop saying you sorry, dumbass." Jose wipes his eyes and finally pulls his man down to him so he can kiss him. Rarely has a kiss been as desperately needed as this one is.

"Why were you sleeping on the couch?" Brock asks him when they finally break the kiss.

"Silky left my weepy ass and I was too lazy to get up the stairs by myself."

"Come on, then, let's go to bed. I'm exhausted. I don't think I've slept since I left here," Brock admits.

"Ok, but don't think you gonna leave your dirty laundry in your suitcase for weeks. I know your lazy ass, babe," Jose teases with a soft smile.

"Shut up, boo boo." Brock rolls his eyes and lifts Jose up in his arms a second later, to carry him up the stairs.

**TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, let's try and update this a but more regularly. Maybe?

**Chapter 5**

**12 hours before**

Even though they both haven't slept well in a while, Brock is restless during the night. Jose feels him turn and move in bed even more than usual. When he starts mumbling in his sleep, Jose pulls him against him, careful not to wake him. He holds him as tightly as he dares and gently runs his hands over the naked skin of his back. Brock relaxes, like he usually does when Jose lulls him to sleep this way, but it doesn't last. Jose has just fallen asleep again when Brock starts mumbling once more. Jose can't make out words, but he knows that his boyfriend sounds upset.

Even though they both went to bed in the early hours of the morning, Jose gets up around twelve, knowing he won't find any more sleep anyway. Since Brock carried him upstairs the night before, it takes him a while to make his way downstairs.

He brews himself a cup of coffee and lets Riley out into the backyard. It is way past the time they usually walk him, but he can't do it with his crutches and he doesn't want to wake Brock.

His efforts are in vain when not ten minutes after he has sat down on the sofa, Brock walks into the living room.

"There you are," he mutters as he sits down next to Jose, instead of getting himself some coffee like he usually does.

"Mmh, needed to let Riley out." He hands him his own cup, knowing the coffee is too sweet for Brock's taste. He doesn't seem to mind this morning and takes a sip anyway. "You ok?"

"I should ask you that. How's your knee?" Brock hands him back the cup and rest his head against Jose's shoulder.

"Still swollen, but doesn't hurt at the moment." Jose runs his fingers through Brock's hair.

"Good."

"You were tossing and turning last night."

"Sorry. Did I kick you?" Brock sits back up and looks panicked. It's a total overreaction to the calm statement Jose just made.

"No, just woke me up a couple of times. And you usually don't mumble in your sleep. Wanna tell me what's going on?"

"I don't know," Brock sighs, places his arms on his thighs and hangs his head. "I can't sleep anymore. And last night I slept better and longer than the last two weeks combined."

"Why?"

"I don't…." Brock stops himself and shakes his head. "This," he points to Jose's knee, "us, everything I guess. The fighting and the pressure of the show and not knowing what to do."

"We ok, toes, I promise. Yes, the last weeks sucked, but the only thing I was worried about, was you maybe getting fed up with the fighting. And that was only when I was very down about all the shit. We gonna be just fine, ok? We both here now, we can talk it out, ain't got nothing else to do," Jose wraps his arms around him and pulls him close.

"I know you don't wanna hear it any more, but I am just so sorry that I put us through this," Brock sounds like he is going to burst into tears any second.

"It's not your fault alone. How about we get some real breakfast and then talk?" Brock rests in his arms for another moment before he replies.

"By getting breakfast you mean I should go and get it?" he knows.

"You could jog to Starbucks and back. Usually it helps you clear your head and you could take Riley, because he hasn't been properly exercised in two weeks? And meanwhile I can get pretty, cause that takes me fucking hours with crutches. It'd be a win win win situation," Jose smiles.

"Fine," Brock replies and gives him a small smile in return. "You gonna be ok here while I'm gone?"

"Perfect," Jose nods and puckers his lips. After a couple of pecks Brock leaves to get dressed for his run and Jose is left alone in the living-room with a worried look on his face.

***

Jose is still upstairs and just got dressed after his quick shower, when he hears steps on the stairs.

"That was the quickest run to get breakfast in history!" he yells into the bedroom.

"What are you talking about, ho? My fat ass ain't running nowhere. I can barely get up these stairs without a break," Silky shows up in the bathroom, completely out of breath and with a brown bag in hand that most likely holds food of some kind.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were Brock."

"I'm the one who has kept you alive since the shady ho left! He suddenly back now?" It is Silky's turn to be surprised.

"Yeah, he came back last night. He quit Drag Race Canada to be here when I have surgery." Jose can't help but smile when he remembers Brock saying nothing is more important than him and their relationship. The smile stays on his face as he switches on the blow-drier, which is why he can't understand Silky's reply. He takes his time styling his hair while he plays the scene from early this morning over and over in his head. "What did you say?" he asks Silky once he is finally done and finds him lounging on their freshly made bed.

"I said: What an idiot! That ho really quit as a judge?!" Silky basically screams.

"He's not an idiot! He did it for me. Well, for us, really."

"You just making that up in your loved up romantic chicken head."

"Am not! He said so himself when he got here. I wanted to get all upset and shit cause he quit, but then he told me why he's here."

"He lost a shitload of money, air time on tv, probably upset mama Ru and won't work for them again and you saying he not an idiot? I disagree, Mary! Just cause you have a fucked up knee and will limp around for a bit? Hell, if I had that chance, you'd have to pry it from my cold dead hands!"

"That's why I have a steady boyfriend and you don't," Brock's voice comes from the hallway and a second later he walks into the bedroom.

"Ha, you really here, shady ho."

"Right back at ya," Brock just smirks at Silky, then walks over to Jose and hands him his crutches and gives him a kiss. "We gonna have breakfast here on the bed or are we going to go downstairs?"

"We not eating on the bed. I want no crumbs in there."

"Did ya at least change the sheets after you fucking in there for your great welcome back?" Silky asks, gets off the bed and starts pulling the comforter off.

"Bitch! I made the bed half an hour ago! You better put them blankets back on and pull the sheets straight!" Jose shrieks and slaps Silky up the back of his head.

"Just trying to find them stains you try to cover up."

"I came home at four this morning. There are no stains," Brock rolls his eyes. "You need help with the stairs?" he asks Jose.

"Ho, we managed the last days without you, we can do it now," Silky huffs.

"I can manage, toes," Jose says softly and gives him a quick kiss. "Why don't you make Silks some coffee and take the sweets he surely brought and we'll be down in a sec?" he suggests. "Silky has to re-make the bed before we join you," he adds with a sideway glance at his best friend.

"Ok, see you downstairs," Brock chuckles, snatches the bag out of Silky's hand and walks back downstairs.

"You two are disgusting again," Silky rolls his eyes as Brock leaves.

Jose waits until Brock is out of earshot and quickly closes the door with his crutch. "Silks stop. Ya know I never asked you before, at least not directly, but you have to stop talking smack right now. He can't take it at the moment."

"He can't take it? This shady…" Silky shrieks.

"Stop!" Jose says forcefully and surprises his best friend. "I'm not fucking with you. He ain't alright. He hasn't slept for real in weeks and last night he was having nightmares or anxiety attacks or some shit. Something is off and I haven't had the time yet to go detective on his ass and drag it out of him."

"You think he fucked up about something?" Silky asks quietly. "Cheated maybe?"

"No, I told you already he didn't cheat and doesn't cheat. That's not it. I think maybe he thinks that I am angry? I don't know. What I do know is that he's like a second away from losing his shit. So, as my best friend, I am begging you to lay off and leave him alone for once. You teasing him about being a shitty boyfriend is not… he can't take it, ok? He already all in his head about it. He nearly had a panic attack when he thought he kicked me in his sleep last night. That's not normal."

"Shit, sorry. I didn't know he's so fucked up about this."

"He wouldn't have quit Drag Race if he wasn't. It sounded last night like he just left and hopped on the first plane out."

"His workaholic and perfectionistic ass? He must be real pressed," Silky now looks worried as well. "Anything I can do to help?"

"Just be nice, try not to make him feel bad about not being here and maybe keep your antennas fine tuned after breakfast, if you should stay or leave. I don't know yet if he's gonna need the distraction from both of us or some quiet time so we can talk."

"Just gimme a sign, ok? I'm sorry I ran my mouth just now."

"It's ok, just… leave him alone now," Jose says and walks over to the door. "But don't go too easy on him either or he'll know I warned you and will have my head for it."

With Silky walking slowly in front of him for safety reasons Jose makes it down the stairs with his crutches. They find Brock outside on the patio where he set the table.

"Aw, look at you being all romantic. You gonna romance me now too?" Silky does exactly what Jose asked him to.

"As long as I won't get into trouble for it," Brock replies and even smiles a bit. He seems a bit more relaxed than before he left for his coffee run.

"It just Silks, you can romance him. So he gets a taste how it's supposed to be," Jose smirks and sits down.

"You showed me enough of that shit when you made me watch your vacation pictures fifty thousand times. I feel like I was right there with ya sailing off into that sunset, you made me look at them so often," Silky grumbles and plays along.

"I like looking at the pics! Can't help it, you see them when you always hanging round!"

"I'm hanging around! Who's the idiot with the fucked up knee who calls me, whining because he wants to be fed and entertained?"

"Yeah, yeah, you my hero… when my boo's not here." Jose places his free hand on Brock's thigh and smiles at him. Brock smiles back, but then looks down and breaks the eye-contact. When his eyes remains focussed on the ground Jose exchanges a worried look with Silky.

"You two hos are just too much! How's a bitch supposed to eat with you being this disgusting! Imma take my cinnamon rolls and eat them at home, before Imma throw up," Silky huffs, grabs two of the cinnamon rolls he brought, takes his cup of coffee and leaves, exchanging a look of understanding with Jose. His retreat is necessary rather sooner than later.

"Bye, Silks! Talk to ya later!" Jose calls after him and waves. Brock remains silent. "What do you wanna eat, toes?"

"Mmh?" he finally looks up. "Nothing, I'm not hungry."

"You bought all of this and went for a run. You have to eat. Choose or I'll chose for ya," Jose tells him. Reluctantly Brock picks a blueberry muffin. "Thank you for taking Riley with you. Did he behave?"

"Yeah, he was a bit slow though. Seems like he got a bit lazy."

"And a bit fat. He keeps begging for food and Silky always slips him something or leaves his snacks lying around."

"He was over a lot?"

"He basically lives in the guest bedroom now. I mean, even before I completely fucked up my knee, we hung out all the time, got drunk and just did some stupid shit."

"I'm glad he's always there," Brock gets quieter again.

"Yeah, he cooked and brought the mail and spoiled the kiddos…"

"Oh, I brought the mail too. There are some letters from the hospital," Brock says and hurries off to get them before Jose can stop him.

Because it seems important to his boyfriend he opens them and reads them. It takes him a moment too long to understand what all of it is and what it says, so he hands the papers to Brock.

"Can you read it and translate this? I don't understand shit," Jose requests. He knows that he could read the paper, if he really concentrated, but he hopes the task will distract Brock and make him feel needed at the same time and save himself from hurting his head.

"This is some kind of information so you know what they are going to do. They are going to replace your MPFL, which is a ligament, and reattach it to the thighbone and kneecap."

"Yeah, they gonna staple that shit in," Jose knows.

"Also they are going to align something and then smoothen the damaged cartilage." Brock looks confused and reads the passage again.

"They gonna align the bump on the bone with the ligament so my kneecap can't jump out anymore." He has paid attention when the surgeon explained to him what they are going to do.

"Shit, you really damaged your knee really good," Brock comments as he continues reading.

"Told ya," Jose shrugs, breaks a piece of Brock's muffin off and holds it out in front of his face. He accepts the food and chews it as he keeps reading. "It says here that they are going to do it under general anaesthesia. Didn't you say they were keeping you awake?"

"That was before they realised they needed to replace the MPLS… something. You know that ligament. I didn't want one from a dead person, so they gonna use one from my thigh, cause of the scars and stuff. Takes longer and they need me asleep for it."

"But that's more dangerous, you know that, right? Things can go wrong because it's harder on the body and some people don't wake up anymore."

"They know what they doing. Imma be fine," Jose shrugs and holds out another bite of the muffin for his worried man.

"You're sure they are the best doctors?"

"I'm sure. I double and tripple checked. "

"Ok," Brock doesn't sound convinced, but picks up the next letter. "These are infos they need. Vacinations, allergies, emergency contact, HCPOA, living will… "

"What's HCPEO?"

"HCPOA," Brock corrects. "It means healthcare power of attorney, meaning who has the right to make decisions about you legally when you can't yourself."

"Ah, ok. Isn't that the same as emergency contact?"

"No, that's just the person who gets informed first, if something happens, but can't make decisions. You need a lawyer for that or be related."

"Alright then. You've been my emergency contact for a while and I guess my mom is .. the other thing then, right?" Jose is not sure he got it.

"Sounds about right. When did you put me as your emergency contact?"

"When I moved in here. Made sense because of the pets and all," Jose shrugs.

"I did the same," Brock smiles and leans in for a quick kiss.

"See, that's something we can put on our firsts list: First guy to be my emergency contact."

"Really? Didn't you live with a guy in Texas or something?"

"My mama still stayed my emergency contact."

"You wanna fill these out now?"

"Nah, I'll do that later. Now I wanna have breakfast with you and know what's going on in your pretty head."

"What do you mean?"

"You not sleeping, you not eating, you've looked like a deer in freaking headlight since you got here or just guilty. Tell me what you thinking, so we can work it out." Jose decides not to play around anymore.

"I guess I am… guilty. I can't believe it took me so long to make the right decision and come home. And not only did I nearly not be there for you when you needed me because of the surgery, but also… after Aruba and all we talked about. I mean, it was me who brought up not wanting to be apart that much anymore and then we're barely home and I break my promise and I am gone all the time. If you'd gone and left me, it would have been your right," he starts spilling the self-deprecating thoughts that are flying around in his brain. "And it's not even like I liked any of it. I was missing you all the time and was miserable and lonely and still I chose to take job after job."

"Why did you take job after job?" Jose asks softly and moves closer to Brock.

"For the fame? Habit? Sense of… I don't know, obligation? But mainly money. Every time I wanted to say no and be home more, all I could think about was how much money I'd loose and how much longer it would take to save for a house and pay for the renovations and get a mortgage. I thought, if I worked more, we'd get the house sooner and be one step closer to make our relationship more solid, cause you need that commitment from me and… I nearly ruined us because of it. For money."

Jose listens without interrupting him and gives him a hug when he is finally done with his rant. It hurts hearing Brock talk about himself this way. "I love you." Brock is still tense and Jose pulls back so he can talk to him, because last night showed that physical touch alone won't help this time. "First: You didn't ruin us. We both sucked these last weeks and we both chose to work more than ever after we got back from the vacation, for the same reason. I just worked closer to home, but not less, time wise. But, toes, we didn't do it for money. We did it to get money to buy our dream house, because we both want it and we both thought that's what we need to get even better and happier. This shit with my knee just showed me that I don't need a joined mortgage or something. I just need you and time with you, no matter where. We could just rent a shitty one room apartment somewhere and we'd still be better than apart. Isn't that some real romantic shit?" Jose asks and Brock actually chuckles.

"We'd be buried under all the drag stuff and cat fur."

"True," Jose nods and laughs. "And we'd find some other shit to fight about. But it would still be our fight and our fault. Not yours. Don't take all the blame for the shit show that was the last couple of weeks."

"Months."

"No weeks! We were good when we were together. We just sucked when we were apart for too long and felt stuck again."

"It felt a bit like the first time. Different situation, but same feeling: being forced to be apart when we didn't want to be. I felt… stuck on drag race and with the contracts. I didn't know what to do."

"What was it that finally made you decide to rip up the contract and come home, all else be damned?"

"The longer I was there the more pointless it seemed. It wasn't even fun anymore, I didn't enjoy it. And then my phone showed me memories of a couple of months ago and it was the pictures of the sailing trip in Aruba. It was during lunch break and I pretty much just walked into the office, told them I was leaving and then… left."

"You should call them later and explain at least."

"Yeah, I have to apologize," Brock nods.

"Babe, if you need to go back so you won't ruin your relationship with them forever, I will not hold it against you. I know that in the end you do it for us."

"No, I'm not going back. I might not work with them again, but I can work elsewhere. I can still tour, I can still do shows and model," Brock shakes his head. "The garden of the new house might just be smaller. Might not have a pool if VH1 and WoW ban me from now on."

"Damn, that means I have to find me another sugar daddy," Jose giggles and presses his lips to Brock's cheek. "Think anyone still want me as their toy-boy with my fucked up knee?"

"Do I count?"

"You always count." Jose nods his head and swings his leg over Brock's so he is sitting on his lap and can kiss him and make out with him like he wanted to for weeks.

***

**Now**

Brock's mood remains lighter throughout the afternoon, a nap and dinner and Jose thinks they had a breakthrough.

That is until they are watching the second movie of the night, some crappy comedy, while Jose fills out his paperwork for the hospital and Brock replies to emails.

"Something wrong?" Jose asks when he feels Brock's eyes on him, even though he still holds his cellphone in hand, emails open.

"No, no," Brock shakes his head and goes back to his emails. After a moment he gets up and gets himself a drink. Then he sits back down beside him. He gets up and goes outside to smoke. Comes back and watches the movie for another minute. Re-fills the cats' food bowls unnecessarily. Leaves to go to the bathroom. Comes back and keeps bouncing his leg up and down. When he starts running his hands through his hair repeatedly Jose stops the paperwork and turns to look at him. He knows the look: The wide eyes, heavy breathing and nervous energy: Brock is seconds away from a panic attack.

"Brock, babe, what's going on?" Jose worries and wants to take his hand, but Brock flinches. "Talk to me, toes," he requests and slowly places his hand on Brock's cheek to make him look at him. "Breathe…. "

"I can't…" Brock gets up.

"Yes, you can! Just slow down and sit back down." Brock backs away even further from the couch. "Brock, I really don't know what's going on in your head! I can't read your mind. You need to tell me!"

Brock starts walking through the room, runs his hands through his hair and tries to get his breathing under control at the same time.

Brock is pacing in their living room, from the TV back to the doorway and over to the couch Jose is sitting on. He is just watching him silently. He knows his man is working up to something and tries to brace himself for whatever it is. Jose knows he is spiralling.

"Marry me!" It suddenly bursts out of Brock. His eyes are wide, his breathing fast and his whole body tense.

"What?" Jose asks, unsure if he heard correctly. He knew something was coming, just not… this. Brock walks closer to him, stops right in front of him.

"I said… I mean…" he ist panting like he just ran a marathon. "Marry me?" It's less an order this time and spoken more softly.

Jose looks at him and takes in the moment, the scene, his man. His wide blue eyes which are filled with tears, the hands clutched to fists and slightly shaking, his laboured breathing and the trembling body. "No," he finally replies. "No, I won't, Brock," he repeats calmly and shakes his head. Jose is very sure of his answer.

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously: 
> 
> Jose looks at him and takes in the moment, the scene, his man. His wide blue eyes which are filled with tears, the hands clutched to fists and slightly shaking, his laboured breathing and the trembling body. "No," he finally replies. "No, I won't, Brock," he repeats calmly and shakes his head. Jose is very sure of his answer.

**Chapter 6**

"What?" Brock looks stunned and his voice is so quiet Jose can barely hear him. His arms hang limp and he finally stands completely still.

Jose knows he doesn't need to repeat himself, but he still does. "I said no."

"But… you… you always….like, you said that if I asked, you'd say yes no matter when and where!" Brock gets upset again. "Oh my god…. you don't want to…"

"You better stop right there," Jose orders and gets up as fast as he can without hurting himself. Then he marches - ok, limps - over to Brock, grabs his arms and drags him back to the couch. He pulls him down and makes him sit next to him. Jose takes a deep breath to keep himself from smacking him. "Will you finally tell me what's going on?

"Isn't it obvious? I proposed and thought you'd say yes and marry me," Brock says in this pouty and sarcastic tone of his.

"Why do you suddenly want to get married?"

"Why do people get married?"

"Brock!" For a second he loses control over his volume.

"What if something goes wrong?"

"What are you talking about? It can't go any more wrong than this," Jose is confused. How much more fucked up can a proposal be?

"I mean your surgery. What if something goes wrong? I have no rights because we're not married. I won't even be allowed to see you! And what if your mom ships you off to some catholic hospital somewhere for some prayers or shit and I don't get a say? What if we don't agree about shutting off machines or therapy or… I won't even see your anymore! And she can just take Riley and all of your stuff and everything."

Jose stops listening after this, even though Brock goes on and on with more and more detailed and fucked up scenarios, all of them involving him either in a coma or dead and Brock not being able to make decisions for him or see him. This is anxious Brock and hypochondriac Brock coming together, clashing with micromanager and boyfriend Brock, projecting everything on Jose. Jose thinks it's ridiculous, all of it, and itches to just shake some sense into him.

Brock has a bit of a point in a more general way though: They have absolutely no legal ties to each other and if anything happened to either of them, they would have no rights whatsoever.

By the vivid scenarios Brock is describing, Jose can tell that this has been brewing for a while. Was this why he was so angry about the surgery being so soon? The fights, the insomnia, the panic attacks, all because he is worried about him and their lack of legal rights? Jose should have known. This is even more fucked up and deeper than having 'bad boyfriend' issues.

"How long have you been thinking about all of this? And I'm not talking about the proposal," Jose interrupts him.

"Why does it matter since when?"

"Because you've been building this major panic attack about me pulling a "Just like Heaven" or dying and you never said shit."

"What? On top of being a shitty boyfriend who couldn't be there for the surgery or after and us fighting all the time, I was supposed to scare you about the surgery by explaining everything that could go wrong? Well, I guess I just did anyway…" Brock is back to running his hands helplessly through his hair, that is sticking up in all directions by now.

"Brock, I might not understand half of the medical stuff on these papers, but my doc explained everything to me. And I have no doubt that I'm gonna be just fine."

"You keep saying that and I wanna believe you, but I.."

"You can't, I know." Jose sighs. He knows his reassurances won't help him.

"You have no crystal ball to look int the future and of course I want you to be alright, but we can't know that!"

"Ok, so what do we do? Besides getting married that is. 'Cause that's not happening before my surgery."

"I don't know!" Brock basically yells, but just shrugs helplessly with his shoulders. "You think I wanna feel like this and act like this? I hate it!"

For a minute they just sit beside each other on the sofa. Brock tries to control his breathing, while Jose thinks about what to do, as he rubs a hand up and down Brock's sweaty back.

"How about we call a lawyer tomorrow and make the arrangements about the hospital lawyer stuff? So you can decide and no one can kick you out of any room."

"What if your mom fights it when it comes down to it? What if…" there he goes again. Jose realises that Brock is too far gone to trust anything right now.

He grabs his phone and makes the only call he can come up with right now.

"Jose? Mijo, what happened? It's nearly one in the freaking morning!" the sleepy voice of his mother comes through the speaker and he feels bad for waking her.

"Sorry, mom for waking ya. I just, I'm gonna put you on speaker and then we need to talk to you real quick. Imma explain more tomorrow ok?"

"What the heck is going on?" his mother now sounds more unnerved than worried. By the sounds he knows she is making her way into the living room.

"Brock is home and he will stay for the surgery and all."

"Hey Brock, good boy!" she says.

"Hey." Brock's voice sounds so small that Jose knows his mother will most likely pick up on the situation even over the phone. She knows him pretty well by now.

"So, uhm, B here is worried that if something goes wrong during or after my surgery, he won't have any rights to see me or make decisions. So we thought we gonna call a lawyer tomorrow, but we wanted to make sure that ok with you."

"You calling me about the HCPOA in the middle of the night? I thought you two idiots had taken care of that months ago!"

"How do you know about the HSP- something shit?"

"Mijo, you have three kids and no father for them and you know about this," his mother replies. "But what about needing my ok? You think Imma sue you or something, gringo?"

"I don't know."

"He spiralling again, mama. Full on breakdown right here. I just wanted him to hear ya say it, so we have that outta the way, before we take care of the other stuff." Jose suddenly feels incredibly tired and drained and they have just started sorting this out.

"You want me to come over?"

"No, we gonna be fine. Thank you though."

"Call me tomorrow please, Jose. And Brock: Remember my son's a tough cookie. He's going to be fine, trust me. But you should both take a break, sleep, eat well and enjoy the time you have together before the surgery. It'll do you some good. Stop worrying, because it only ruins today, when you can't change what is gonna happen tomorrow anyway."

"Thank you," Brock says, clearly touched by her words.

"Yeah, night mama."

"Night, boys!"

"Hear that? No suing!" Jose tells Brock. "You feel better?"

"A bit, but it comes and goes. I don't know what is wrong with me these days," Brock slumps against the back of the couch. "I'm just so tired of being depressed and anxious and …"

To shut him up Jose presses his mouth to his.Brock is so surprised it actually works and he relaxes into the kiss. Then Jose pulls him in his arms again, so Brock's head is resting against his chest. "Calm down, breathe and I promise we'll sort out this fucking mess." If the situation wasn't as serious Jose would laugh.

"How? How can we.." Brock starts again.

"Shush, boo… listen to me and just relax. Tomorrow we gonna take care of the legal shit. And the day after, we'll call the network and talk to them and tell them what's going on and why you left. But now, we going to go to bed and sleep. Imma hold ya all night so you won't have a nightmare. We still have the sleeping pills upstairs, if you want one." Jose places a kiss on his forehead and holds him a bit tighter.

"No, I don't." Brock moves his head against his skin.

"Maybe we should also call Laurie tomorrow so this won't get any more fucked up." Jose wonders aloud.

"How can it get any more fucked up? I just dumped all _my_ worries about _your_ surgery on you, and proposed and you said no." Brock looks up at his face, but doesn't change his position otherwise.Jose just has to peck his lips. His man is a mess right now, but he just loves him so much. "Why did you say no?"

"'Cause it don't count. You can't just propose while you freaking out. Knowing you when you this fucked up, you next would have freaked about me actually saying yes. Just like you freaking now about me saying no. So, we just gonna pretend you didn't really propose." Jose stops running his hands over Brock's back and playing with his hair. "And once you sure you wanna get married for reals you better make this some real romantic production or I'm really gonna whoop your ass."

"Fine," Brock takes a deep breath. "Sorry."

"Stop saying 'sorry'. That too much even for your Canadian ass. And now let's go to bed. Your freak-outs are making me tired and we have legal shit to take care of tomorrow."

"Getting married might have been easier." The small teasing smile on Brock's face gives Jose hope, that they are really going to be fine even without anti-depressants or new anxiety medication.

"When all of this shit is over and you still wanna get married, I might just say yes, you fucking asshole." Jose smirks and gives him a soft kiss.

"Good, I might just ask again. Bed?" Brock sits up after pecking his lips again and then gets Jose's crutches from the side of the sofa.

"As long as you not freaking out about me not fucking you tonight," Jose tells him and takes the crutches. "Nothing to do with your fucked up proposal or your freak out. Just my fucked up knee…" He rolls his eyes and is glad when it causes Brock to snort and giggle as he follows him and makes sure he is save as they climb the stairs. Jose is sure he never had to work so hard for a single night of sleep.

They manage to sleep that night, Brock sprawled all over Jose. They even sleep in the next day. They call their lawyer around noon, who promises to set up the paperwork. And then, for the rest of the day they do absolutely nothing, but snuggle on the couch, concentrate only on each other as they watch crappy movies and eat junk food. It takes until after dinner, but then Jose has Brock laughing tears again about his running commentary and the tension slowly drains out of the both of them. It's a start.

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this as quickly as I could, because this needs to be resolved rather sooner than later. There's enough torturous stuff going on around us in reality.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I can say is: Finally!

**1 week later**

He is warm and comfortable, snuggled up against Brock's body. It's late, but he is not sleepy at all.They spent most of last week in this position or in similar ones, always close, always snuggled up somewhere in the house or out by the pool. It calmed Brock's nerves and now it is calming his.

"You set the alarm?" Brock asks him and his breath tickles his ear.

"Yeah I did," he confirms and runs his hand up Brock's naked chest.

"You're nervous about tomorrow?"

"Kinda," he shrugs and tilts his head so he can see Brock's face. "I've never been cut open before or put under, ya know."

"Mmh." Brock's hand slips under his shirt and splays out against his lower back. The warmth is comforting I'm even more.

"You ever had some shit done?"

"No, never. I mean, at least if you don't count the fillers and injections. And the removal of my wisdom teeth." Jose can feel Brock's chuckling against his cheek, from where it is resting against Brock's chest.

"That don't count. Had my teeth done and fillers, too. But you know that."

"I do." Brock places a couple of kisses against the crown of his head and Jose tightens his hold on him.

"How you feelin'? You good?" The mess from last week is not yet forgotten, Brock's fears, anxiety and the fucked up proposal. However, simply spending time together and doing every day things seems to have helped him. Who would have thought that buying groceries and quarrelling over which take out to get would be a remedy for panic attacks?

"Yeah. Still nervous and worried about tomorrow, but, like… this," he gives Jose a squeeze, "is just what I need, it seems. Just like, us together for a while. Hanging out and talking and like… not being apart constantly. Even if it's under these fucked up circumstances."

"I missed you, too, you know? It wasn't just you. But I didn't wanna say nothing and be nagging and shit, cause it's not your fault. We both working too much."

"Not anymore."

"I'll be out for a while, but you'll be back like what? In a week? Two?"

"I pushed back the tour again. I am not leaving until I know you're well enough to fend for yourself."

"You really did, huh?" They discussed the option, but Jose didn't know Brock made a decision already. He waits until his man looks at him and then kisses him, cups his face with his palm. "Heyyy, toes?" he asks when he breaks the kiss.

"Whaaat?" Brock smirks, knows that he wants something. He just doesn't know what. However when Jose slowly starts moving his hips against him, it dawns on him and his smile gets wider. "Really?"

"Don't smirk like this, asshole. It's been forever and this is our last chance before I'm gonna be all fucked up for weeks." He lightly slaps his chest, with the hand that is lying there, but the words lack any bite.

"Believe me, I know that's it's been forever. Even though I didn't mind the frequent blowjobs over the last week."

Jose rolls his eyes about Brock's amusement. "You wanna fuck me or not? Last chance for at least a month. 'Cause child, your hand will become your dick's new best friend after tonight."

"My hand? What about your hands or mouth? They are gonna perform a knee surgery, not put you in a full body cast." Brock laughs and teases him. Yet, the hand on Jose's ass that pulls him closer speaks a different language.

"You really wanna discuss how we gonna fuck after tomorrow? Now?" Jose has had enough. First they were apart forever, then Brock was emotionally all over the place and too freaked out for any kind of action - especially because Jose refused to let him use sex as a distraction from talking about it. Also, Jose was in too much pain for most of the time and too exhausted from all the drama. But tonight, he really wants his man, no, needs him.

"Not really," his shady boyfriend giggles and finally kisses him like he means it. Jose keeps pushing and moving is dick against his hip, runs his hand all over Brock's naked chest and gets lost in the kiss. "You sure?" Brock asks and looks serious once they break the kiss.

"Bitch, you want me or not? But don't fucking ask me if I wanna, when we both know you can feel my hard on." Brock takes Jose's hand and places it on his crotch. Through his sweatpants he can feel he evidence that he clearly wants him as well. Brock raises both eyebrows challengingly. "So? What's the problem then?"

"Uhm, your knee? Or is there any other reason why we didn't have sex for the last week? I don't want to hurt you. Do you have a position in mind that could actually work?" Slowly and carefully, so he won't put pressure on his bad knee, Jose rolls fully on top of his boyfriend.

"We never really talked positions before," he grins, tickled by the weird conversation. It's true, they never have, at least not beforehand. " Want me to do some quick google search on gay sex position with a fucked up knee?" he cackles.

"Either that or we need to be creative. Anything where you have to bend it is out of the question."

"Can't lie on it either."

"Mmmh," Brock thinks and then pulls him down for another kiss. Once more Jose gets lost in the kiss and the delicious feeling of Brock's lips against his, his tongue in his mouth and his hard body underneath him. He tightens his hold around Brock's neck when he is slowly tipped backwards and then carefully rolled on his back. However his legs are pulled sideways over Brock's, until his ass is resting against his man's crotch.

"You one creative ho," Jose smirks when he realises what he has come up with.

"This ok? You think this could work?"

"Yeah, bitch, this works. I mean, you know, once we got rid of them clothes and all."

"You need to get up and get ready?"

"Might have done that earlier in the shower. Thought I might get lucky tonight." He knows the shit-eating grin on his face is what makes Brock shake his head in mock exasperation.

"And here I thought you were just all cuddly and waiting to fall asleep."

"Nope," he pops the p and pushes his shorts over his hips. "What are you waiting for? Get the lube and fuck me!" A pillow hits him straight in the face as Brock's laughter echoes through the room. But before Jose can take his revenge, the lube is thrust in his hands and Brock's mouth closes around his exposed dick.

***

"You're all right?" Jose's leg is bouncing up and down and he bites his lip constantly, so hard he draws blood. He tries to stop the bouncing, but his brain seems unable to get the command to the knee.

"Nervous… scared," Jose admits, because it's just the two of them in the hospital room now. He is already dressed in the ugly hospital gown and they sit on the bed. He will be taken to the operating room in soon. Brock wraps his arm around him, pulls him into his side and holds him tightly.

"You gonna be fine. The pills will kick in any second and then it'll only be half as scary. Tranquillisers rock when you're anxious."

"Of course, your anxious ass knows about that kinda shit," Jose mutters into his shoulder, but buries himself even further into Brock's side, so he is completely surrounded by his warmth and scent. "You promise you gonna be here when I wake up?"

"I promise. Even if Silky still intends to fight me for it," Brock chuckles a bit and only the slightly higher pitch in his voice reveals that he is nervous as well. Strangely, Jose finds that comforting.

"Kick his fat ass out if you have to. You got all the paper work shit now to do it. I wanna see your pretty face first thing when I wake up, not his." He places a kiss in he crook of his neck.

"Which romantic movie are you staring in your fantasy right now?" Brock teases him and laughs.

"Idiot," Jose grumps half-heartedly and purses his lips when he raises his head. With a smile on his face Brock leans in and kisses him softly.

A nurse steps into the room a second later and they break apart.

"Mister Cancel, right?" she asks after checking the clipboard and looks at them.

"Yes, that's me," Jose says as Brock get's off the bed, but doesn't let go of his hand.

"Alright. How are you feeling?"

"Nervous… hungry," he admits, because he wasn't allowed to eat anything since last night and it's already two in the afternoon.

"Then let's get you into surgery. The sooner you're done, the sooner you can eat something," she tells him with a friendly smile. "You took the pills we gave you?"

"Yeah, I did," he confirms and finally lies down in the bed, but keeps his legs above the blanket. "You gonna knock me out now?"

"No, we're going to do that in the operating room," she laughs and puts a plastic tag around his wrist. His eyes flit towards his knee, where the doctor drew lines on his skin with a sharpie earlier, to let him know where they incisions would go. Another nurse steps into the room, an older one this time, who reminds him a bit of Silky.

"Ready?" she asks and it's not clear if she's talking to him or her colleague.

"Can he come?" Jose asks and clings to Brock's hand. He feels a strange mixture of haze and panic bubble up.

"I'm afraid not, sweetheart. But we'll take good care of you," he is told. Jose doesn't want this surgery anymore. He just wants to go home. Pleadingly he looks up to Brock, wants him to break him out of there.

"See you later, papi. I love you." Brock's eyes are strangely calm, now that the moment is here. Where is his panic now, when Jose needs it? He gives him a reassuring kiss and Jose insists on another one, before they wheel him out of the room.

***

Everything is blurry and his mouth is so dry, he first can't open it when he wakes up. He blinks against the light and finds Brock sitting beside him on a chair. Where are they? Why is he lying in a bed that's not his own?

"Br…" he has to clear his throat and fuck, that hurts.

"Here," Brock holds a bottle of water with a straw to his face and he quickly drinks it. It helps a bit.

"Where are we?"

"Still at the hospital, boo boo. You just got out of surgery."

"Oh," Jose tries to remember, but he can't concentrate. "We married?"

"No, we're not married."

"But you here."

"Of course."

"You got my phone?"

"No, it's in your bedside table. I've got my phone. Why?"

"What time is it?"

"Shortly after six."

"Can we leave?"

"No, you have to stay for a couple of days."

"Why?"

"Because you just got out of surgery."

"I have to do my make up. Show starts at eight. Derick will be done before me this time."

"Derick is still in Las Vegas." Brock is chuckling. Why is he chuckling?

"We have to go to the beach later and then go to the boardwalk. I wanna go bungee jumping now. You think I can?" Jose slurs.

"Papi, you should at least wait until you're dressed and your butt is no longer hanging out." Brock seems to be laughing again.

"What if my knee falls off?"

"It won't. They fixed it, right?"

"We in hospital?"

"Yes, you just got out of surgery, boo."

"There's something sticking outta my leg." Jose tries to sit up and pulls on the tube. Just when he is able to grab it, Brock places his hand on top of his and pulls it away, then holds his hand. It feels nice.

"It's the drainage. Lay back down, babe. It needs to stay in for now." Jose lies back down and Brock moves his hand to his face, cups his cheek and runs his thumb over Jose's eyebrows. His eyes fall shut.He is so tired all of a sudden."Go back to sleep."

"You gonna stay? You be here when I wake up?" Brock can't leave, he has to stay.

"Of course."

"Mm…'kay. Love you."

"Love you, too." It's the last thing he says and thinks before he falls asleep again.

***

When he wakes up the next time his knee hurts like a motherfucker and his throat feels like it's on fire. Brock is still sitting in a chair next to his bed and Jose feels a strange sense of deja-vu.

"Hey, toes. You up?" he asks quietly, because he thinks his man might be asleep. He coughs to clear his voice, but it doesn't really help.

"Yes," Brock opens his eyes and shakes his head, contradicting his words. "How are you feeling?"

"Everything hurts. Can you get me something to drink?"

"Yes, sure," he hands him a bottle of water with a straw. "We done this before," Jose realises.

"Yes, three hours ago," Brock confirms.

"You eaten something?"

"No, not yet. I wanted to wait until you're awake. I promised you I'd be here when you wake up."

"I'm hungry and you should eat something, too. They got something here?"

"Nothing that you will eat," Brock laughs, but then leans down and holds up a bag which seems to hold containers. "Your mom stopped by to check on you and left us this."

"Thank god," Jose sighs and slowly sits up, tries to not move his leg too much. "They tell you anything?" he asks and motions to his bandaged knee.

"Everything went well. Perfect. Your physical therapist will stop by in an hour to start the therapy already," Brock replies and in the neon light of the room Jose can see the tears filling his blue eyes. He wrinkles his forehead, wondering what could be wrong then. "I just… I'm really relieved you're ok… and alive," Brock sniffs and has to laugh about his own over-emotionality.

"I'm happy as fuck to be alive as well, you motherfucking dumbass," Jose can't help but chuckle, even though he is in a lot of pain. He holds his arms open and gives Brock the hug, he seems to need. "You kept it together earlier when I was freaking out. I knew you was gonna crack at some point, twinkle toes." He smirks and presses his lips against Brock's stubbly cheek.

"Now that you're out of surgery and alive… marry me?" Brock's voice is half pleading, half joking and makes Jose snort with laughter.

"You think, Imma need some kind of death scare so I say yes? What kind of fucked up shit is this, this time? You really suck at proposing."

Brock laughs loudly and pulls back to wipe the tears off his cheeks. "Thought I'd give it another try. Maybe that's what happened in the romantic comedy you dreamed up earlier. Didn't want to take any chances."

"You better give me something to eat quickly, before I chew your ass out for this dumb shit!" His knee still hurts, his throat is still on fire, but Brock is here, he is out of surgery, which went well and they got food. The rest can wait.

**TBC**


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again. Sorry, it took me so long. I hope someone is still reading this even though I am so crap at updating lately.

**2 weeks later**

"Ma! Silky! Can y'all shut up? I can't hear the fucking tv 'cause of your screaming!" Jose yells from his place on the couch in the direction of the open kitchen behind him. He's been trying to watch the latest episode of Ex on the beach, but all he can hear are his mother and his best friend talking and joking loudly as they cook up a storm.

"Jose, shut the fuck up! We cookin' here! You don't wanna eat, we can leave!" his mother yells back and he groans and rolls his eyes. There is no way he can win this argument while being stuck on the couch for most of the day.

"Vanjie! I'm done," his assistant Tammy interrupts his musing about how to respond, and sits down next to him.

"I made you an appointment at the barber tomorrow and made sure Brock has time to drive you. The physical therapy is now pushed back, starting at eleven each day. And I sorted trough your drag costumes that were delivered from Vegas. Some of them I need to take t the dry cleaners, others are fine. I know nothing about wigs though, so you might have to check them yourself."

"Yeah, I'll do that later." He doesn't feel much enthusiasm for doing anything these days, though. He's been home from hospital for nearly a week and between being in pain, stuck on the couch or being tortured in physical therapy there is not much else he can do. Walking around on crutches is a pain in the ass and his hands and back aches from it. Everyone always nearly has a heart-attack when he tackles the stairs by himself, which means he can't even go pee without someone coming with him. And then there's all the thing he actually really needs help with, like showering or getting dressed. He's fucking annoyed at the situation and with nearly everyone around him. Today it's extremely hard, because Brock has been gone all day taking care of some things for their jobs and Jose just wants him around.

He urged him to drive to the WoW office though, because being stuck at the house with Jose's mother, Silky, Tammy, Jayden while looking after Jose all the time, was slowly getting to him and Brock needed some alone time before he'd lose it. Even if it was just a drive to studio city and talking business with the studio execs and managers.

Before Jose can say something more, Jayden comes running into the living-room, chasing Apollo.

"Jayden, stop chasing the cat! He'll scratch you," Tammy tells her son.

"Hey," a Brock's voice comes from the doorway a moment later.

"Hey, babe," Jose smiles at him and cranes his neck so he can take a look at him. When he sees the narrowed eyes, he holds his hand out towards Brock.

"Gringo, take off your shoes, I just swiped the floor!" Jose's mother yells from the kitchen. Brock's eyes narrow further. Jose silently shakes his head and simply thrusts his hand out towards him.

"Thanks Tammy," he quickly tells his assistant and is glad when she gets the hint and takes her son, to join the other two in the kitchen.

"They're all still here," Brock sighs when he's walked around the sofa and takes Jose's hand before he sits down beside him.

"Yeah, I tried to get rid of them, but they don't take the cripple on the couch seriously." Jose sighs and puckers his lips. He's a bit disappointed when Brock only gives him a quick peck.

"You're not a cripple, don't say that." He lies back against the backrest of the couch.

"How'd it go at the studio?"

"Good, good. It took a longer than I thought, but it was ok overall. They're not too mad about me just leaving during filming. How did your therapy go today?"

"Still exhausting. And painful. We tried bending the knee a bit further today, but it just fucking hurts. Once I got back, my mom made me put on the torture contraption, so it would get bend even more. No idea what the fuck she did while I was stuck here with that thing. Then Silks came over and they've been cooking ever since, while Tammy sorted through my drag shit and Jayden's being a brat today and keeps chasing the cats." Jose leans against the backrest beside Brock, so their shoulders are touching.

"You know I love your mother, Silky and Tammy, but I just… when's the last time we were in this house by ourselves?" Brock turns his head and faces him. His voice is lower now, so they won't be overheard.

"Child… Feels like the last time we were alone, was when I woke up after the surgery," Jose says after thinking about it for a second.

"I just…. I miss talking to you… just you," Brock voices what he feels. Jose gives him a small smile and cups his cheek with the palm of his hand.

"I miss you too, toes." He pulls him closer and gives him a soft kiss.

"Eeewwwww!" Jayden's loud screech makes them pull back with a groan, but Jose stops Brock when he wants to get up.

"I've got an idea, but you gotta help me."

"Ok," Brock looks suspicious, but stays on the couch.

"You go upstairs now and pack us an overnight bag, smuggle it out to the car and come back. Then I'm gonna pretend that I need to pee. Instead of upstairs, we'll go to the car and flee. While you're upstairs I'm gonna book us a room in some hotel. I don't even care where we're going. I just wanna be alone with you again. I feel like I'm losing my fucking mind!" Jose tells him quietly and is proud of his plan.

"You want us to flee from our own house so that we can be alone?" Brock asks incredulously.

"Yup, or you got another idea, Mary?"

"Ok, that's it." Suddenly Brock is off the couch and on his way over to the kitchen. "Ok, listen up!" he tells the three adults and one toddler. Even Apollo and Riley look up at him, because his tone of voice means business. "You know we appreciate all of your help and we're really grateful.But Jose and I need some time to ourselves and therefor I'm asking all of you to leave."

"But we cooking!" Anabel protests.

"You throwing us out just so you two hos can fuck?" Silky asks.

"Silky! Language!" Tammy speaks up as well.

"I just… no, you know what… like… I don't really care about the food right now and it's none of your fucking business why we want you gone. We're two grown men, this is our house and we want it back! So please, leave. Now!" Brock actually raises his voice a bit at the end of his speech and runs his hand through his hair. They all just stare at him, then they pack their things and leave, Tammy being the only one to say goodbye.

"Ya know, you just pissed off my mom and Silks, right?" Jose points out when Brock comes back to the couch, once the door slammed shut behind their guests.

"You mad?"

Jose sniggers and shakes his head. "Come here, so I can kiss ya!" As soon as Brock is close enough, he pulls him in his arms and does just that. It's nice to get lost in the kiss without someone interruptingor them fearing someone might walk in. It doesn't get that heated, that's not what this is about, but just necking with his boo on the couch is exactly what Jose needs.

"I'll have to call them tomorrow and apologize?" Brock asks and pulls Jose closely to his side, so he can rest his head on Brock's shoulder.

"Yup, otherwise you'll get the chancletta," Jose laughs. "But now you have to call someone else first."

"Who?"

"Postmates, otherwise we'll starve to death. Or you think you can finish whatever my mom and Silky started?"

"Probably not," Brock chuckles and kisses Jose's lips again. This time the kiss gets more passionate. They both groan when Jose slips his hands under Brock's shirt and touches his skin.

"Miss this too. Miss touching you," Jose mumbles against his lips before he kisses him again. He presses against him, as close as he can get, one hand tangles in Brock's hair, the other running over the warm skin of his chest and stomach under his shirt.

He's just reached the top of his jeans when Brock stops his hand, by placing his own on top of it. "Papi, we have to stop."

"Why?" Jose pouts and seeks out Brock's mouth with his own once again. For a while it's working and they are back to making out on the couch, but when he tries to move his hand, Brock stops him again.

"You're getting me all worked up and I don't want to go upstairs and jerk off again. It's kind of frustrating when I know you're right there."

"Why'd you do that? You crazy!" Jose laughs.

"I'm not. You're in pain and I just wanna get off. It makes me feel bad."

This time Jose actually laughs out loud. "You feeling bad cause you wanna get off? And let me watch? Ya know, my dick's still working, we just have to pay attention to my knee."

"We tried once and you nearly cried because of the pain."

"Yeah, 'cause it was two days after the surgery and we idiots were squeezed into one tiny hospital bed."

"You really feellike it?" Brock's question sounds very innocent, but there's an eager spark in his eyes. It's been nearly two weeks after all and while they've gone longer without sex, they are usually not around each other during these weeks. And even then, they still sext and have video sex. This time, there's been absolutely nothing, not even while Brock helps Jose shower. The first failed attempt at a hand job had somewhat ruined the mood.

Now, Jose grabs the front of Brock's shirt, pulls him down towards him, and slips his tongue in his mouth. His fingers find the zipper and pull it down. He's hard and waiting for him as Jose wraps his hand around him.

*******

"Not the kind of dinner I had in mind," Brock laughs, later, when they are snuggled up on the couch, their pants still open and their shirts somewhere on the living room floor.

"Maybe, but you always love that kinda meal," Jose wiggles his eyebrows and kisses his man again.

"I do," Brock laughs and presses a kiss to the tip of Jose's nose. "This was really worth throwing these four out for. But, like, not why I did it," Brock hurries to add.

"I know. How about you go and change your pants, while I wash my hands and order us some food?" Jose proposes, because now he's really feeling hungry.

"You need help?"

"Nope, I can actually walk with the crutches to the sink, boo boo. You can help me in the shower later. Wash me real good," he teases.

"That I can do," Brock chuckles and pecks Jose's lips a couple of times, before they finally untangle from each other.

Jose sighs when he sees the chaos in the kitchen and even starts cleaning up a bit once he haswashed his hands and ordered their food. "You ok?" he asks Brock, when he comes down and starts coughing when he walks into the room.

"Yeah." He says after sipping the water Jose hands him. "I don't know what's going on. I had this earlier as well when I drove back from the studio."

"You getting sick?" Jose balances both crutches in one hand as he checks Brock's forehead with his other palm.

"Nah, I don't think so. Maybe I'm allergic to something?" he shrugs and the coughing actually stops.

"You ever done some allergy test shit?"

"No, I was never allergic before. Not like you, with your hay fever and food allergies."

"Child, worst is the make-up when my eyes swell up and my skin gets all itchy. Especially because I never really know which brand works. Every fucking new thing is a risk I take for the drag and the coins."

"Such a hero," Brock teases and Jose swats his legs with his crutch. "Hey! They're supposed to help you walk and not to be used as weapons."

"Helps when your boyfriend is a sarcastic motherfucker who don't know when to shut up."

"There are other ways to make me shut up," Brock smirks.

"You not sucking my dick again before dinner. Maybe, Imma let you have dessert later," Jose tells him and they both laugh as Brock pulls him close and just holds him for a second, both happy that they are finally alone again.

*******

Silky and Jose's mother pout for a couple of days after, but then they actually accept the boundaries Jose and Brock set.No more simply barging in, no more just staying over for no reason, no more just walking into their bedroom or bathroom… no more.

However, that also means that Brock has to do more, as Jose's time is still divided between physical therapy, doctor's visits and simply resting so he can heal. Jose tries to help his man with the tasks around the house, but it's still a lot. Usually they do everything together and while Brock is responsible for the laundry, Jose cleans the house. This isn't working anymore though.

"Hey, you ok?" Jose asks again when Brock stumbles into the living-room, eyes barely open, even though he's slept until one in the afternoon.

"I'm just so fucking tired all the time," Brock groans and plops down on the sofa.

"You sure you not sick?" Jose checks his temperature again. Brock is out of breath from just walking down the stairs and Jose gets the feeling that it gets worse every day. "Maybe you should go and see a doctor."

"I've seen more than enough doctors recently when I drive you to your appointments," Brock rests his head against Jose's chest. Being tired always makes him extra cuddly. "I'm sure it's just the allergy meds. People always say they make you tired. But I'll check if there's any side effects with my other meds." He is asleep as soon as he's finished speaking.

Jose holds him gently as he keeps watching his movie, his knee strapped into the bending contraption. He presses his lips against Brock's forehead and silently vows to keep an eye on his man. It might be the allergy medication… or not. Either way, he will make sure that Brock will go and see a doctor soon.

**TBC**


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think once you read the chapter, you will understand why I hesitated so long posting this in the current situation. Let me just add that I know what Brock is going through here from personal experience.
> 
> This is not betaed and I'll go over to again later. Until you'll have to deal with the typos and mistakes.
> 
> I hope someone's still reading :)

**Chapter 9**

**1 week later**

It's a weird kind of sound that wakes up Jose in the middle of the night, one he is sure he hasn't heard before, one that doesn't sound right. For a moment he stays still in the darkness and just listens, but he can't figure out what it is. Blindly he reaches for the small lamp on his bedside table and switches it on. Jose slowly blinks against the sudden brightness and rubs his eyes. Once his vision becomes clear he glances at Brock and freezes. Brock's eyes are open and the weird sounds are coming from him.

"What's wrong? You're having a panic attack?" Jose asks, because it's the only thing that he can come up with that would explain the heavy breathing, panicked look and weird sounds his boyfriend makes.

"Can't…. breathe…." Brock presses out, in not more than a toneless whisper.

"Fuck," Jose curses and is suddenly wide awake. He jumps out of bed and the excruciating pain in his knee makes him gasp; he forgot his crutches and his injury, not that he really cares at the moment.

First he shuts off the AC in their bedroom and then opens the windows wide. As the brother of an asthmatic he knows a thing or two about problems with breathing. He thinks about driving Brock to the hospital, but he couldn’t even get him down the stairs or even out of the bed by himself, because of his motherfucking knee and the crutches and neither is he able or allowed to drive.

He has only one option and so he dials the emergency number with one hand and sits back down beside Brock. Jose takes Brock’s hand with his free one and keeps talking to him until the operator picks up his 9-1-1 call. Brock’s face is ashen, his hands clammy while his forehead is glistening with sweat.

„Breathe slowly, boo, don't panic ok, we got this. Just slow breaths, help will be here soon," he tells them and then goes on to tell the emergency operator what's going on.

Jose sits with his man as they wait for the ambulance, stays calm for him and makes sure he's warm underneath the blankets in the otherwise freezing room, mainly because it’s all he can do. When the ambulance gets there he lets them in and quickly jumps into some clothes, attaches his knee brace and grabs whatever he can get for Brock. After a brief discussion with the EMTs and Brock’s panicked look, they let him ride in the ambulance with them, for which Jose is grateful.

During the ride Jose calls his mother, waking her up, to tell her what's going on and asking her if she can look after their pets. He doesn't ask, but he hopes that she will offer to come to the hospital and she does. Everything else, calling managers, friends and Brock's family will have to wait until they know what's going on.

Whatever they have given Brock seems to work and he seems to calm down and breathe easier than just minutes ago.

„Are you his emergency contact?“ The nurse at the hospital asks Jose, while they wheel Brock away so they can check on him. It’s the first time in his life Jose is actually happy about his man’s panic attacks about random things, because he is not only his emergency contact, but also has power of attorney since Brock’s meltdown about Jose’s surgery.

„Yes,“ Jose confirms and hobbles over to a row of chairs where he is handed a clipboard with papers and a pen.

„Can you please fill out the paperwork? Allergies, insurance, all that,“ she instructs him.

„What about Brock? When will he be back?“

„They will check on him now and as soon as we know what’s wrong with him we will let you know, ok?“

„Thank you,“ he nods and looks down to the paperwork that seems endless. „You think it’ll take long?“ He looks back up at the friendly nurse.

„I don’t know, depends on what’s going on.“ She looks at him for a moment. „And what did you do?“ She asks him and points to his knee.

„Fucked up dancer knee that needed to be fixed. Didn’t know my mans would get sick right then,“ Jose tells her and feels a headache coming on.

„It’ll be fine. Do you need anything else? Something to drink or some ice for your knee?“ She asks him.

„No. Imma be fine. Thank you,“ he takes a moment to check her name tag, „Abby.“ She simply gives him a small smile and then walks back behind her counter.

Jose quickly fills out the forms and would be proud about all the important info he knows about his boyfriend, from allergies to medication and medical history, if the situation wasn’t as dire. Abby comes can picks up the paperwork when he is done and then all he can do is wait.

It drives him crazy and he can’t find a comfortable position to sit, checks his phone every couple of seconds and finally start walking up and down the floor with his crutches until his hands are numb, his back aches and his knee is throbbing. He doesn’t care though, he can't sit still. His brain has become a jumbled mess of to-do lists and reasons and possibilities what could be wrong with Brock. He's been sick for a while and he's refused to see a doctor, the idiot. Next time he would drive him to the doctor himself, no more excuses… if there ever will be a next time.

„Jose!“ His mother’s voice makes his thoughts stop that turn darker and darker by the second.

„Ma!“ He says and as soon as she has wrapped her arms around him, he slumps against her and the tears start. He’s been functioning so far because he had to, but now his mother is here.

„Baby, what’s going on? What did the doctors say?“

„I don’t know, they’re still looking at him. He couldn’t breathe, ma. He just… he looked so panicked and…fuck, ma, I told the idiot to go to the doctor.“ His sobs stop him from speaking more and he just stays in his mother’s arms crying against her shoulder.

After a while she leads him back to the chairs in the waiting area and makes him sit down. She hands him some tissues and goes to talk to the nurse herself, because she’s taking over now, being his strength when Jose doesn’t have any left. And with not knowing what is wrong with the man he loves, he’s used his strength up in the last nearly two hours since Brock’s wheezing woke him up.

***

„Family of Brock Hayhoe?“ A doctor asks another hour later and Jose sits up straight while his mother actually gets up.

„What is wrong with my son in law?“ she asks.

„He has a case of pneumonia and I’m afraid we have to admit him. We’re worried about his high fever and the oxygen saturation.“

„Is he gonna be ok?“ Jose needs to know.

„We will put him on antibiotics and oxygen and hopefully he will have a speedy recovery.“

„Can I see him?“

„We are just getting the private room ready you requested and then bring you to him. We gave him a tranquilizer, so he will most likely sleep for a while.“

„Thank you, doctor,“ Jose’s reply is quiet.

„See, he’s gonna be fine.“ His mother comments as soon as the doctor has left.

„That’s not what he said. He said ‚hopefully‘,“ Jose can’t help but point out. At the moment, he doesn’t have it in him to be too optimistic. Brock is sick, he is tires, hungry and his knee is killing him and everything around him smells of disinfectant. Not to speak of the fact that he’s sitting here in old sweats, Brock’s T-shirt with uncombed hair and no aftershave.

„He’s gonna be fine,“ his mother insisted and wraps one arm around his shoulders. „And he even gets a private room, huh, mijo? Fancy,“ she smiles. Jose knows she’s only trying to lighten his mood, but that’s not what he feels like. He just wants to see his man.

„Ma, can you drive home and pack us each some clothes and toiletries? Ya know, toothbrushes, deodorant, that kinda stuff?“

„Yes, of course. You just text me the room number when you know.“ She gives him a kiss on his cheek and another warm hug and then Jose is alone with his thoughts again for the next hour until he is finally lead to Brock’s room.

Brock is lying in bed, just as pale as before, but with an oxygen thingy in his nose, hooked up to an IV and monitors. He’s asleep and doesn’t even stir when Jose hobbles in on his crutches.

There’s a small couch by the door and a chair beside Brock’s bed. Jose chooses the chair, even though his knee is still aching horribly. Then he takes Brock’s hand in his, rests his forehead against their palms and silently prays.

***

Not much changes for the next 24 hours. Brock remains asleep for most of the time and only wakes up twice for a couple of minutes and Jose manages to get him to eat and drink something, before he falls asleep again. Halfway though the next day Jose picks up on the fact that things aren’t as they should be, by the looks of the nurses and doctors who go in and out of the room in shorter intervals.

„Mr. Cancel, I’m afraid we have to run some more tests,“ a nurse lets him know around nine that night.

„Why? What’s going on?“ Jose wishes his mother was there with him, but after dropping off their things she’s already been back twice that day with food for him and Brock, which neither of them did eat.

„His fever should be lower by now and his oxygen levels better. We are worried the antibiotics aren’t working. To make sure that there are no other underlying issues, we’d like to do some more test though,“ she explains.

„Ok, just… make sure he’ll be ok?“ Jose can’t help the small whimper that follows his words. Seeing Brock like this is probably the hardest thing he's ever had to do and suddenly he gets Brock’s panic and worry before his surgery. He _really_ does get it now and he vows to himself that he will tell him, once he’s better. He’ll also take better care of him and not be as bratty and spoiled anymore. He won’t get as angry anymore. He won’t yell as much. He’ll make sure Brock gets his rest. He’ll force him to work less and be home more. He’ll insist on more time together. He wont care anymore about all the shit people say on social media and…

While Jose waits outside as an armada of doctors and nurses swamp Brock’s room to run more test, he takes out his phone and finally replies to Silky and all the other colleagues who have found out through their managers and the grapevine what’s going on.

Then he sits down on a chair just outside Brock’s room and records a quick video for an instastory, he owes their fans that much and also Brock will kick his ass if he doesn’t apologize to their fans. He knows he looks tired, his hair is a mess and his shirt is wrinkled, but none of that matters right now.

"Hey y'all. Uhm, I just wanted to let you know that we real sorry we can't be at Dragcon this year. We wanted to be there and I promise we'll try and make it up to you in some way. But, uhh…" His voice cracks and he rubs his eyes, trying not to cry. "Brock caught pneumonia and we at the hospital. We thought they'd just give him some meds and shit, but they admitted him last night. Right now he's asleep and his fever is down a little bit. But he still very sick and, uh, like… I don't know when they'll let him out. We still waiting for some tests and… I just hope he gonna be ok, because none of the doctors can give us much info right now. I'll try and keep you updated, but I've got to be with my man right now." Jose loses the fight against the tears and the video ends. He doesn’t even watch it again or edit it, before he uploads it, while tears are still running down his face. Suddenly it’s not important anymore what he looks like or what people think about him.

***

For Jose, not much changes over the course of the next two weeks. He basically lives at the hospital and spends his days and nights by Brock’s bedside. He gets a guest-bed to sleep inand his mother brings him food and fresh clothes. Sometimes she stays for company and some gossip, but mostly he’s alone with hisboyfriend, who is mostly asleep. Jose refuses to leave; not to shower at hime, not to walk his dog and not to go to physical therapy. He needs to be beside Brock’s bed to make sure he has everything he needs and also that he’s here for the rare moments when his man is awake and lucid.

Friends have offered to stop by, but Jose doesn’t feel like seeing anyone, not even Silky.

There’s only one person he wants to talk to and slowly, very slowly, Brock gets better and is able to stay up a little bit longer.

Nearly all of Brock’s energy is drained by eating, going to the restroom and showering. Since Jose can’t help him because of his leg, he always has to call a nurse and so this time isn’t there to chat with him.

„Hey, big guy,“ Brock’s groggy voice comes from the bed when Jose is playing a video game one night, nearly two weeks in.

„Hey, twinkle toes, you need anything?“

„No,“ Brock slowly shakes his head and Jose places the game on the side table so he can focus fully on his man.

„Drink something, please.“ He lets his hand rest against Brock’s forehead, still worried that the fever might come back, even though it’s been completely done for the last three days.

„Have you drunk anything or eaten anything? You look exhausted,“ Brock comments. It’s probably the most he’s talked in two weeks, since he didn’t have any voice at first and was barely conscious.

„I’m fine.“ It’s a lie, but his not fucking telling Brock about his aching back and knee, about the constant stomach ache or the headache he has from all the stress and the crying.

„How’s your knee? Have you been to your physical therapy appointments?“

„No,“ Jose has to admit.

„Papi!“ Brock’s scolding him again and it makes Jose smile.

„You feeling better, huh? Bitching about my knee again.“

„Someone has to.“ Brock is able to give him a small smile back, which brings tears to Jose’s eyes. He leans forward, rests his forehead against Brock’s and sniffs loudly, trying not to cry.

„Don’t do that shit to me ever again, you asshole or I’ll kill ya myself.“ Jose’s voice is quiet and shaky.

„I’m sorry.“ Brock gently pecks Jose’s lips. „Did I hear that correctly earlier that they might let me out tomorrow?“

„Yeah, if your fever’s not coming back and your lungs keep getting better.“

„Guess me being a smoker didn’t help, huh?“ Brock’s horrible stupid attempts at humor start again and Jose wants to slap him.

„Not anymore. Touch one more cigarette and I’ll make ya eat it.“ Jose huffs and puckers his lips to get another kiss.

„Promise,“ Brock vows, „but only if you’re going back to physical therapy.“

„Wanna get rid of my crazy ass again?“

„No, I want you getting better, same as you want me to get better.“

„Fine… I believe ya,“ Jose pouts a bit, knowing he will get another kiss.

„So, how is this going to work when we’re home. I can barely keep my eyes open for longer than half an hour and you’re still on crutches. We’re both useless.“ Brock wonders and finally takes the glass of water and drinks it.

„My ma already moved in to look after Riley and the kitty cats. And Silky said he’d help too.“

„Oh god, they’ll be back?“ Brock groans and hides his face in his hands, obviously remembering the chaos around them after Jose was back from the hospital.

„You got a better idea?“

„Not really.“

„You know, your ma offered to fly in, but I said we’ll be fine for now. Or do you want her to come?“ Jose asks, doubting his decision to decline the offer. Maybe Brock wanted his mama?

„Both of our moms together?“ Brock actually laughs, then starts coughing. „No, thank you.“ He finishes once he has regained his breath.

„Can you imagine? My ma being all mama Vanjie and your ma trying to stay calm in the chaos.“ Jose is chuckling as well.

„They’re gonna meet one day, but we both need to be up for it.“ Brock yawns and his last words are mumbled.

„Go back to sleep, boo. Imma take care of you.“

„Take care of yourself, too until I can take over again.“ Then Brock’s asleep once more.

***

While Brock is mainly resting once he is back home, Jose is incredibly busy. He’s back at physical therapy and willing to make up for the lost time. He needs to get better so he can look after Brock should anything happen to him again. At first the therapist comes over, so Jose can keep an eye on Brock and his mother, but after barely a week and a half he is willing to leave the house.

It feels good to go out, get coffee and see other people than just Brock and his mom. Honestly, now that Brock is better Jose starts to get stir crazy being stuck at home all day.

His mother and Brock are being back to bickering, mostly about her need to clean all day and his habit to leave stuff everywhere he goes. His man is a slob and Jose is well aware of it.

„Jose! Tell your man that just because he is still coughing doesn’t mean he can throw his dirty clothes all over the floor!“ His mother rushes to him when he has just stepped inside the house, coffee in hand now that he only needs the crutches for longer distances, 2 weeks after Brock was released from hospital.

„They’re not dirty!“ Comes brock’s voice from the living room, followed by coughing. It’s a lot milder than it used to be and beside the fatigue Brock is nearly back to normal.

„You mean you throw your clean clothes on the floor?“ His mother is now standing in front of the couch where Brock is sitting, hands on her hips and flames shooting out of her eyes. Jose knows he has to do something or she’ll kick Brock’s ass. Brock, so far, has little experience with the rage of his Latina mama, because they were never close enough that she let his boyfriend experience this side of her aimed at him. Now however, things have changed and yes, Brock will get his white boy ass kicked if he doesn’t watch his next words.

„Ma, I’ll clean it up,“ Jose offers and knows fully well that as soon as Brock is completely fine, Brock’s mess will become one of their main reasons for spats again.

„Your hear that gringo? My son, with a broken knee, has to pick your clothes off the bedroom floor ‚cause you too lazy!“ Ok, that didn’t go as expected, judging by his mother’s volume.

„What are you even doing in out bedroom?“ Jose shakes his head. Of course, Brock has to make it worse.

„Cleaning, changing the sheets opening the window, getting the dirty laundry and bringing in the clean one. Because _you_ are not doing it! Just sitting here on the couch all day in all this mess!“ She’s reached that hysteric tone of voice.

„Ma, Brock just got out of hospital and you don’t have to do all of that shit. We got a cleaning lady. We good.“, Jose wraps one arm around her shoulder and slowly leans her away from the couch and Brock. „Why don’t ya go home, spend a nice evening with your man and relax? We have some great red wine here which you can have.“

„I can’t leave you alone. I did after Brock threw us out and see what happened! He landed himself in the hospital.“

„It’s not your fault, he just got sick. We’ll be fine. I promise. We can’t have you get sick, too. I’m gonna call you tomorrow, ok?“ He stirs her towards the front door.

„Imma be back tomorrow afternoon.“ She nods and then takes her purse and keys and leaves, even forgetting the red wine he offered.

„So you threw her out this time?“ Brock chuckles when Jose walks back into the living room.

„I didn’t throw her out, dumbass, I send her home to relax.“

„Good,“ Brock holds out one hand towards Jose, urging him to come closer.

„You better be grateful for my mama and Silky for keeping’s fed and watered. And you really could pick up your shit,“ Jose grumbles but snuggles up to Brock on the couch. „You one messy motherfucker,“ he adds when he looks around the room and finds several glasses and cups on the couch table, that surely belong to Brock, Brock’s iPad and phone on the couch next to them, some perch stacked beside the couch and several shirts and sweaters thrown over the backrest of the chairs by the dining table.

„I did laundry today,“ Brock simply says.

„I can see that. What are we gonna order for dinner? Any ideas?“ Jose changes the topic.

„I already took care of it.“

„Please tell me you didn’t try to cook again!“ Jose’s eyes wide and he sits up to look at Brock, who only laughs.

„No, I didn’t. I ordered us some Italian.“

„Fine… you back in the good books again.“

„Am I really that messy and annoying?“ Brock teases.

„Yes.“  
„But you still want to be around my messy and annoying ass for a while longer, right?“

„You betcha. I already told ya at the hospital: Try and die again and I’ll kill ya myself, haunt ya through hell for all eternity. Imma kick your ass with my pointy high heels and I don’t give a fuck how much my feet will hurt!“

Brock chuckles. „You wanna make that official?“

„Huh?“

„I was just thinking that maybe, now that you’re not dying and I’m not dying and we’re both still here, we could maybe make this eternity stuff official…“ Brock trails off as Jose’s eyes widen. He pushes himself up against Brock’s chest and stares at him.

„Are you really…?“ Jose’s breath hitches when he takes in the expression in Brock’s eyes.

„I love you and I want you to marry me.“ Brock states.

„You asking me again?“

„You said 'no' the last two times.“

„Because they were shitty proposals. Where’s the romance? The roses, the music, the food and going down on one knee?“ Jose points out.

„The food is coming later, which is when I originally wanted to do this. Also, if I went down on one knee I’d be too out of breath to get up again.“

„Where’s the ring?“ Jose still doesn’t really believe that Brock’s serious.

„Upstairs in some jeans of mine. I just couldn’t remember which one, hence the mess.“ Brock admits a bit sheepishly.

„You really proposing again? For reals?“

„For reals. Marry me? Please!“ His tone is soft and Jose finally understands that this is not brought on by a panic attack or a practical mind. This is real.

„Yes!“ He finally says with tears in his eyes and is pulled in a kiss a moment later. A real kiss, with tongue and all. The first one since the hospital.

„Finally,“ Brock pants when they pull back. „I can’t believe I had to ask you three times to get you to say yes, papi!“ He complains, but has a large smile on his face.

„Third time’s the charm, toes,“ Jose laughs and kisses his man again.

**The end**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it and yes, it was always supposed to end right then and there.


End file.
